Huntington Family Series

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “I think we have a buyer for the house. Because the Graysons weren’t there long, I don’t expect there’ll be much profit, but with the proceeds from the estate sale, Emily Jane should receive a few thousand dollars. I know it’s not a lot, but they had little savings and Lane wasn’t yet eligible for his company’s life insurance policy.”

  “It’s better than owing money,” Mitch said. “I’ll put it away for college. For now, I can pay her expenses.” That was true, though he’d have to earn a few raises before he’d feel comfortable again.

  “You did apply for Social Security for her, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, but it hasn’t kicked in yet. They want me to save receipts to show I’m spending the money on her. Won’t be a problem—I never knew babies cost so much. Anyway, I hope that will help me pay a sitter when I go back to work.” If Emily Jane ever lets me, he amended silently.

  “That’s good, then,” she said. “I’ll e-mail you that list right now. I’ll let you know later about the house.”

  “Thanks.” Mitch hung up the phone, feeling grateful. When Dolores’s e-mail came in, he sent out an announcement. By the end of the day, he’d received eleven responses from people who lived in Utah and planned to attend the service. He hoped there would be more coming who hadn’t replied.

  Several people said they couldn’t attend but would like to donate money for Emily Jane. Mitch was surprised, and his first thought was to refuse, but after talking to his father, he agreed to set up an account for Emily Jane at the local bank. At the very least, the funds would help pay the legal expenses he was incurring as he completed custody documents. Besides, if Emily Jane had gone to someone else, he would have wanted to help in the same way. It would have given him a measure of peace that seemingly escaped him now.

  Cory enjoyed sailing down the Black River on the supply vessel with the others who were hitching a ride to Manaus. On the river, the lushness, the vastness, the primitiveness of the Amazon came clearly into focus for her. Every bend seemed to hold a new treasure, a hidden surprise. Over the course of two days, they observed a host of different animals from the deck, went ashore to see several small villages, and stopped at great waterfalls where they swam in clear, clean water. Everywhere they went, Cory snapped photographs.

  The most impressive sight for her was one she had seen before but never tired of—the white herons standing in groups on one leg in the shallows. Toward sunset, the birds would fly together and settle in the same tree until it appeared each branch had sprouted large white blossoms. Not even her pictures could do justice to the glorious sight.

  There was a joy in moving along the river that she didn’t feel in the jungle camp. A freedom that was as sweet in its temporary nature as in its unexpectedness. She knew from experience that she would feel a similar freedom when she returned to the jungle and her work. The jungle would welcome her back, especially tiny Meeko, whom she’d made stay behind but who had followed the boat along the river in the treetops for what seemed like miles.

  She wasn’t finished photographing all the animals, as she had hoped to be when she suggested this trip. In particular, she needed a good shot of the gigantic jungle pig, a supposedly new species recently discovered in the Amazon. The creature resembled a boar without the fat, hairy neck ring, and goatee—or the smell. One of the biologists at the camp was studying them, so Cory didn’t anticipate a difficult time capturing one on film as soon as she returned from her week-long jaunt. There was still plenty of time to meet her deadline.

  Meanwhile, a little trip to Manaus was certainly in order. Both she and Evan had worked hard. He’d read bits and pieces of his article to her and the others in the evenings as they sat around the big table, and she thought it was shaping up well. She’d made a point of not digging into the whole article, however, despite an offer from Evan to do so—and not only because she’d been working so hard. Usually, when she read what a writer put down about her photos, she had a million suggestions to emphasize the life she portrayed in her pictures. But writers in general hated her advice, and because she couldn’t seem to write a decent article herself, she was left to their mercy. Not delving into Evan’s article was her way of avoiding potential trouble between them, especially when she certainly didn’t plan on accepting any picture-taking advice from him.

  Even before they reached Manaus, they began seeing wooden, boxlike houses along the river. Children in small canoes came out behind their boat and played in its wake, laughing with glee as their canoes rocked in the water.

  Evan shook his head. “I guess they never heard of video games.”

  “A good thing,” she retorted, snapping photographs.

  The first order of business after they pulled ashore was to find a couple of hotel rooms and drop their duffel bags. Then they walked around until they found a nice place to eat. Cory had a big salad with several mixed vegetables—some native and some she knew from home. To her surprise, the unfamiliar dressing was remarkably good. Either that or I’ve been deprived too long, she thought with a smile.

  “What are you thinking?” Evan’s fork poised above a slab of grilled steak.

  “That I’ve been so long away from regular salad dressing that I wouldn’t know if they gave me a terrible-tasting substitute.”

  He chuckled. “Well, it’ll be over soon.”

  She sobered. “For you. I’d like to go home and visit after our project is finished, but I plan to come back. I love it here.”

  “You want to stay forever?” His eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “No. Not forever. But right now it’s where I want to be.”

  She could tell he was disappointed but not yet giving up on their relationship. “I can write here,” he said, letting the sentence hang.

  A sudden shyness overcame her. “I’d like that,” she replied. His hand covered hers, feeling warm and comforting.

  When they left the restaurant, gray clouds billowed in the sky. Rain was coming. Despite this, they walked to the Internet café so Cory could e-mail low resolution copies of her work to her agent. The high resolutions would be needed for the final layout but were simply too numerous and too large to send in bulk through her e-mail provider; these would have to be mailed on CDs.

  They purposely chose a route that passed close to the famed Manaus opera house. The pink and white, three-story building was an amazing, elegant work of art, both inside and out—all but its blazing gold, blue, and green dome that had always appeared so contrastingly loud and bright. Only when Cory had learned that the colors represented the Brazilian flag did she understand and appreciate their inclusion on the structure.

  “Maybe we can come back here tomorrow,” Evan suggested, motioning to the opera house. “Since we’ll be here for three days.”

  “Good idea. I’d like to get some photos, if they’ll let me.”

  They walked the streets together, enjoying the sounds and the life of the city, foreign to them after so long in the primitive jungle. When they arrived at the Internet café, they unzipped their laptops from their carrying cases. Cory laughed as she began to download her e-mail through a wireless connection. “It’s just so weird,” she said. “Can you imagine what the natives in one of those tiny villages we passed would think about sending and receiving messages in nothing but air?”

  Evan looked up from his laptop. He had text messaging on his phone and could also send small files from just about anywhere in the Amazon, but he was taking the opportunity to do research on the animals she’d photographed. “We would have a hard time explaining,” he agreed, “even if we spoke Portuguese.”

  “I’m getting better at communicating. Well, not really.” She grinned. “But hey, I have a brother-in-law who knows Portuguese.”

  “A brother-in-law? I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

  Cory had surprised herself. It was the first time she had thought of AshDee’s husband as her brother-in-law. Oddly, doing so now gave her a feeling of connection.

  “First
you don’t tell me about your birthday, and now your family? What else are you keeping from me?” He laughed, but his eyes were clearly hurt.

  “My sister and I are estranged,” she explained. “Apparently her husband came here on a religious mission of sorts. Well, not here exactly. I think he was mostly in the cities farther south.”

  “A missionary?” Evan grimaced. “Must be an older sister.”

  “No, younger by two years. He was a missionary before they met.”

  “Probably one of those Mormon boys.”

  She raised a brow. “How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I have a cousin who’s a Mormon. He went on a mission, too. I think it was to England. Lives in Utah now. I’d like to say the guy’s a jerk, but he’s not. He works in insurance. Quite successful, I hear.” He shook his head. “What a small world.”

  “Isn’t it?” Cory turned back to her screen and clicked on an e-mail from a friend she’d gone to high school and college with but hadn’t seen in a long time.

  Hi, Cory,

  I hope this is still your e-mail addy. I really should have kept in better touch. Sorry about that. Last I heard you were planning to move to Brazil.

  I just had to write when I read about what had happened in the newspaper. I couldn’t believe it! I’m so sorry about Ashley. Despite your disagreements, I know how much you cared for her. I wanted to attend the funeral, but I didn’t know where it was being held (the article didn’t say). I’ve probably missed it by now.

  Please know that my thoughts are with you. If you need anything—ANYTHING—please don’t hesitate to e-mail me. I have vacation time coming if you want me to visit (if you’re back in the States) or if you’d like to come here. My door is always open.

  Love,

  Pam

  P.S. What’s going to happen to your niece? Did your brother-in-law have family?

  Cory gave a small cry. Funeral? AshDee? No! Her heart began a painful pounding in her ears. Her breath rasped through clenched teeth. No! Pam must be mistaken. She had to be mistaken.

  Searching the e-mail, Cory found a link and clicked on it. A newspaper article came up, dated on a Tuesday more than three weeks earlier. The headline read Boating Accident Claims Five Lives. AshDee’s name popped out at her from the text below. Cory felt ill. A dozen thoughts careened in her head.

  What on earth was AshDee doing on a boat on a weekday? What had she been thinking? Had AshDee perhaps suspected when she stepped on the boat that her life would be forfeit? Had there been time for her to consider how her death would change the lives of those she left behind?

  Except that Cory’s life wouldn’t change, not really. Her sister hadn’t been an active part of her life for four years. Like her father, she had written AshDee off as dead. And now she was.

  Dead.

  Oh, dear God, Cory prayed, falling back on her Baptist upbringing, though she was no longer a believer. Oh, AshDee! Other thoughts followed the first wave but nothing coherent. Just a jumble of pain and loss. Of terrible, bitter regret.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Cory couldn’t tell—didn’t care—who spoke. Her eyes riveted on the screen as she struggled to read the rest. Words swam across the page. Why wouldn’t they hold still? Husband and wife . . . boat . . . three others . . . capsized . . . drowned . . . survived by . . . Emily Jane . . .

  Cory looked away. AshDee was gone. Like her mother. Like her father. The regret burned deeper into her heart. Just when she believed she could no longer endure the pain, another thought worked itself into her pounding head.

  EmJay was alive! Her niece was alive!

  “Cory?” Evan was at her side, staring at her anxiously. Cory saw him through a haze. She stood and stumbled away—away from him and from the laptop that had transmitted the terrible news.

  “Everything okay?” asked an employee in accented English.

  “She’s had some bad news, I think.” Evan shoved money at the employee and scrambled to pick up both their laptops.

  “Cory!” Evan caught up to her on the street. “What’s wrong? Talk to me!”

  She saw him then and reached for her laptop. “Thank you.”

  “Cory, what happened?”

  “My sister’s dead. She and her husband drowned.”

  His face paled. “I’m so sorry. Come, I’ll help you back to the hotel.”

  Cory didn’t remember the return journey at all. She did remember insisting on being left alone. In her room, she fumbled through her duffel bag, searching for the pictures of her niece. She found them and AshDee’s two other letters inside the worn birthday card that she’d stuffed between the folds of her second-best pair of jeans. The baby grinned out at the world, her blue eyes laughing. In one picture, her hands were raised to her head, a sparse lock of curly reddish orange hair twisted around a chubby finger. A tear slipped from Cory’s left eye.

  “I’m coming, EmJay,” she whispered. Never mind that no one had contacted her about the baby. She had the responsibility to make sure EmJay was safe and happy. She had left her relationship with her sister until too late, but she refused to do the same with EmJay.

  Outside, it began to rain.

  Chapter Six

  Rain had poured steadily since Cory found out about AshDee, the sky weeping tears that Cory wouldn’t shed.

  She’d become a machine, thinking only of leaving. Like it or not, Evan was a big part of those plans. He would have to make arrangements with the conservationists to allow her tent to remain until she returned. He would also have to finish the article without her picture of the gigantic jungle pig. Or take the photograph himself.

  Cory gave Evan a CD copy of her favorite photographs, as there wasn’t time to make hard copies that he could study for his article. She hadn’t even e-mailed Vikki the low resolution versions or mailed the CDs she’d burned for her. All that would have to wait until she arrived in Texas. Cory was glad now that she’d brought all her 35mm film with her for developing in Manaus. She’d get it done in the States as well.

  “You are coming back, aren’t you?” Evan asked at the airport the next morning. Four o’clock was too early for either to be in a good mood.

  “Of course I am.” For a long moment she let him hold her, feeling safe and protected. At last she disengaged his arms and pulled away.

  On the four-hour flight to São Paulo, she puzzled over Evan’s question. She wanted to return soon, but how could she make plans until she met EmJay? Cory was AshDee’s only other living relative, and despite their estrangement, she had a duty to AshDee’s daughter. Late last night the thought had come to her that EmJay might need her as much as AshDee had once needed her after their own mother’s death.

  She wondered what EmJay was like and how she would feel about Cory. And how do I feel about her? She couldn’t answer that exactly, but thoughts of her niece had never brought bitterness to her heart, only a sense of sadness that Cory was not a part of her young life.

  Beyond the windows of the plane, the gray clouds made a soft, marshmallowy carpet that blocked all but the occasional glimpse of the country below. Cory didn’t care. She clutched her laptop and tried to stem the pain and guilt that ate at her heart.

  In São Paulo she had a tedious, twelve-hour layover that only added to her anxiety. When she finally boarded the plane to Atlanta, she was a nervous wreck. The overnight flight was supposed to last more than nine hours, but they landed early for once, due to good air currents. It was four-thirty in the morning, the same time as in Manaus, more than twenty-four hours since Cory had said good-bye to Evan. She hadn’t slept well on the plane, and she felt exhausted. After another three-hour layover at Atlanta, she finally boarded her last flight to Dallas.

  The trip took nearly four hours, and at last Cory slept. As the plane circled over the airport in Dallas at fifteen minutes to ten on Thursday morning, she awoke with her neck aching and her seat partners—a young college-aged boy and an older, distinguished-looking gentleman
—giving her such odd stares that she was sure she’d been snoring. Flushing, she collected her duffel, stuffing her laptop, case and all, inside.

  Outside the airport, she became immediately aware that the air was different. The heavy blanketlike humidity of the Amazon was gone. Though the heat of midday might actually be higher, the lower humidity made her feel more comfortable than she’d been in over a year.

  Cory stopped abruptly. What next? Where to start? She’d made no plans other than to get to Texas and find EmJay. I can do this, she thought.

  First, she took a large withdrawal from an ATM, then she drew out AshDee’s last letter with the return address in the corner, the one she’d received after her sister’s move to Texas. Next, she hailed a taxi and jumped inside. The thin, balding taxi driver tried to start a conversation in his warm Texas drawl, but when Cory replied perfunctorily, he left her to wallow in her misery.

  How different this trip would have been if she and AshDee had made up. Or if AshDee hadn’t drowned. Cory’s excitement might have overshadowed the hurt of four years apart—of four years of betrayal. But now she was too late. Bitter thoughts burrowed into the center of her soul. Now I can never tell her how much she hurt me by leaving. I am truly alone in the world.

  As for AshDee’s feelings in the matter, she simply couldn’t go there. AshDee would never have feelings again. Yet in the depths of Cory’s despair, there was always one bright hope: EmJay. Part of her sister lived on.

  “We’re here, miss.” The taxi driver watched her curiously.

  Checking her watch, she saw the drive had taken fifty minutes. She handed him a wad of cash. “Thank you.”

  “You want me to wait?”

  She hesitated, not sure how he could possibly guess that she had no idea what she would find here. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  “I’ll wait then.” Leaving his engine running, he picked up a Dean Koontz paperback from between the seats.

  Cory surveyed the area. She was in a subdivision of modest, two-story homes. Children played on tiny front lawns or driveways. Some were on bikes in the deserted street. Modern America, thought Cory. A concrete jungle. She felt a pang of longing for the green denseness of the Amazon. For the smell and feel of the trees and earth. For the growl of the jaguar, calls of the parrot, and scolding of the monkeys. Would Meeko forget her and leave before she returned?