by Gloria Repp
Jude asked how Tara was doing, and she told him what she’d observed but didn’t say anything about the hideout or the pendant.
“What about the fire?” he asked. “Our teacher told us there’s a bad one up that way.”
“She’s right. I got directions and drove around it.”
“Our teacher said that a store in Tabernacle blew up, too, so she gave us a lesson on how explosives work. Might come in handy.”
Madeleine said she hoped not, and he went to get a bucket of fresh water.
A short time later, while she was putting supper into the oven, she thought about the pendant and wondered what it would look like, cleaned up. She could try silver polish.
It was small, the size of a silver dollar, and it bore a raised motif that was lost in the tarnish. As she worked, the image of a tree with twining, interlaced branches appeared. Jude stepped through the doorway, coughing. “Bria’s raising a dust cloud in there. I need a drink.”
She moved aside as he filled his glass at the sink, drank it down, and filled it again. “What’s that?”
“Something of Tara’s.” She ran water over the pendant and held it up. The tree gleamed, and its interwoven roots and branches spread into a circular border.
He set down his glass, staring.
“What’s the matter, Jude?”
“Where’d you get that?”
“From Tara. She asked me to keep it for her.”
“It’s not hers.” He spoke as if the words strangled him. “It’s . . . it’s my dad’s.”
Madeleine looked from his ashen face to the object in her hand. “Are you sure? Maybe it just looks like his.”
He picked up the leather cord that dangled from the pendant. “My dad wore this all the time. He liked Celtic stuff.”
He touched the frayed ends of a knot. “This is where it broke, a long time ago. We were wrestling.” He prodded the second knot with a thumbnail. “Then it broke again. He was going to get a chain for it. He put it in his binocular case for safe keeping.”
His voice cracked, but he went on. “I don’t know where that girl got it, but—”
“Jude! You coming back?”
He jumped. “Don’t let my sister see it, or it’ll make her crazy, like Mom.” He hurried from the kitchen.
She dried off the pendant and tucked it into the top drawer of her bureau with a sigh. Which of them was telling the truth?
Her aunt had worked in her dark room for most of the afternoon, but she came out to pay Bria and Jude before they left.
“You’ll have the house to yourself,” Madeleine said to her. “Supper’s in the oven. I’m going with Nathan Parnell to visit one of his patients.”
“Take your time,” her aunt said, “I’ve got a project in hand. Why not invite him for supper?”
Why not?
She’d hardly finished changing when his Jeep drove up to the back door. She slipped a loaf of walnut bread into a bag and went out to meet him.
“I’m glad you could come on such short notice,” he said, opening the car door. “Evelyn liked you, and it’s good for her to have company.” He frowned. “That ulcer on her leg. Sometimes it’s easier to dress it myself.”
Evelyn Bozarth began to glow as soon as they walked in. “Doc-tor-and-teach-er.”
“How are you today?” Madeleine asked.
”Lov-ing Christ.” Her crooked smile was incandescent.
“Me too.” Madeleine put the loaf of bread into her lap. “Brought you something.”
Nathan said, “Wait till you smell this.”
He opened the bag. “Evelyn, I saw her make this bread, and believe me, it’s going to be tender. Or whatever the term is for dough that’s been beaten up.”
The woman shook her head. “Knea-ded. Glut-en-stretch-es.”
She bent her head over the loaf and smiled. “Cinn-a-mon. Ver-y good.” She patted Madeleine’s knee. “Thank-you.”
Nathan checked her over, changed the bandage on her leg, and watched her walk. “You’re doing well,” he said. “How about trying a cane next week?”
“Good news!” She smiled. “Grad-u-a-tion.”
She leaned back against the pillows while he went to make her tea.
“So you taught at Sandy Bank?” Madeleine said.
Evelyn Bozarth nodded, looking expectant.
“Someone told me that Sid and Sam Marrick went there,” Madeleine said. “Did you know them at all?”
“Bad kids.” Her eyes snapped.
Madeleine hesitated. Was she upsetting the woman? Maybe she shouldn’t ask any more questions about them. Next time.
Evelyn Bozarth leaned forward, stretching a hand toward Madeleine. “Doc-tor,” she said quietly. “Re-mark . . . re-mark-able man.”
“Yes.”
The woman’s voice shook, just a little. “Take-care-of-him. For-me.” The black eyes softened. “Our se-cret.”
Pain twisted deep inside her, but Madeleine smiled. “I’ll do my best,” she said. “And . . . and I’ll pray that the Lord keeps making you stronger.”
He returned with tea and a slice of the walnut bread, buttered and cut into four neat squares. Remarkable man, yes.
It was time to leave, and Madeleine bent to give the woman a hug. She whispered, “You are such a blessing to me, Evelyn. I’ll remember our secret.”
Evelyn Bozarth’s smile followed them all the way to the door.
After they left her subdivision, he said, “I want to take you somewhere, but I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“What is this fearsome place?”
“Apple Pie Hill.”
She eyed him. Was the kindly doctor suggesting a therapeutic trip? “You probably don’t have the same agenda. What’s the big attraction there?”
He turned off the highway. “You’ll see.”
At the moment, what she saw was the usual road-lined-with-pines, but the trees were burnished with more than sunlight. He wanted to spend time with her.
“How was your visit to Tara’s?” he asked.
She described the aunt and the uncle, and told him about the pendant.
He slowed for a puddle. “Jude is a smart kid. He wouldn’t be mistaken about it belonging to his father. Strange, though.”
“Something else I find strange is Kent’s attitude toward Tara and her family. He and Remi came over for supper on Friday night.”
He looked at her, a question in his eyes.
“He invited himself, before Aunt Lin found out. He won’t be coming back.”
But she still hadn’t done anything about his scam.
“Anyway,” she said, “he made a speech saying I should send Tara away, and so forth.”
“I wonder if that’s what Remi found so offensive,” Nathan said. “He mentioned that Kent’s been shooting off his mouth. He might be changing his mind about his hero.”
They turned onto a sand road with more trees. If it were up to her, they’d never run out of roads and trees.
“Did you have a chance to talk to your detective friend?” she asked. Maybe he could rock Kent’s boat.
“We don’t have much of a case.”
“Why not?”
“We have to prove that fraud was intended. He said we should try threatening Kent with legal action.”
“That’s better than what I did. I just asked him to be nice and stop it.”
“That was a good place to start. He’s going to wish he had.”
They crossed another swampy patch. “At least,” Nathan said, “I hope we can protect Paula Castell’s name. We can’t even prove that he added the initials without her knowledge.”
“What can we do?”
“I’m going to talk to Kent. Probably Wednesday morning—that’s the first time I’m free.” He turned to look at her. “I want to punch him for the way he treated you, Mollie. When we talk, I need to be rational. Will you pray for me?”
“Yes, I will.”
The road climbed a small hill, ending at a soaring
metal fire tower, orange and white. Beyond it was nothing but trees.
“Here we are,” he said.
She laughed, gazing at the bony structure. “Can we climb it?”
He glanced across the clearing. “I bring the teens here to pick up trash, and last trip, the steps needed some work. Looks like someone fixed them.” He smiled. “Just in time.”
The wind tugged at her hair as soon as she stepped from the car. Let it blow. This might be fun.
She scurried up the metal steps and paused at the third landing. Already the view was impressive. They climbed up one more level and went on to the next, where the scaffolding felt rickety.
She glanced at the level above them. “Is that a room up there?”
“Locked,” he said. “This is far enough.” He leaned on the rail and she did too.
Trees spread before them, looking like a rumpled coverlet stitched with jade greens and moss greens and shadowy blue-greens, stretching far into the distance.
“Beautiful!” she said. The wind was brisk enough to cut through her sweater and send her hair streaming. She crossed her arms, trying not to shiver.
He glanced sideways. “Cold?”
“I should have brought a jacket.”
“In Alaska, we have a custom—a wonderful old tradition—for keeping warm.”
He had that mischievous lift to his eyebrow.
“I’m suspicious already.”
“You’ll see.”
He unzipped his jacket, took his arm out of one sleeve, and spread the free half of it across her shoulders. “Hmm. For the best effect, you need to move a little . . .” He snuggled her against him. “And you don’t want that arm of yours to get cramped, so could you . . . ?”
She hesitated, then slipped her arm along his back and leaned into the warmth of his sweater.
He grinned, pulling the jacket around them. “Hold onto it, that’s right. See, you just fit.”
“Scheming varlet!” Her face was barely an inch from his. “I don’t think it’s an old Alaskan custom at all.”
She could feel him laughing. “Are you warmer now?”
“Yes.”
“A varlet with your good interests at heart. Have mercy.”
She shook her head, resisting the impulse to lay it on his shoulder. His torso was lean and solid. His hand rested lightly on her waist, and she was aware of it.
This was fine, right? Breathe. Slow and deep.
He noticed. “You okay?”
“I am happy.”
He bent, touched his cheek to hers. “So am I.”
They stood in silence, gazing across the trees. A tiny open space, perhaps a cranberry bog, sparkled in the light. Lovely, but . . . so flat.
He said, “What are you thinking?”
“I was wondering how they do without mountains.”
He smiled. “When I’m homesick, I come here to look at the mountains.”
“Show me.”
He turned to the south, taking her with him. “See those skyscrapers on the horizon? Not really Atlantic City. They’re mountain peaks. Kohisaat, Gurney, Sunrise Mountain.”
She gestured past him to the west, at the misted outline of another city. “And those?”
“Mt. Silverthrone and Cedar Point. Sometimes you can see Beartooth.”
“Show me Denali.”
“You know Denali?”
“The most beautiful mountain I’ve ever seen.”
“On a crisp day like this, look west of Mt. Silverthrone, and there it is, the tallest one.”
She closed her eyes and could see the mountain thrusting into the sky with its white buttressed shoulders.
“When were you there?” he asked.
“College. I had a friend who lived near Anchorage. She took me on the tour to Denali, and I’ll never forget it.”
“Neither will I. Denny and I climbed it once. Susan was upset. She thought it was too dangerous.”
She knew he’d talk about her, sooner or later.
“Did she worry about your flying?”
“Not usually. She liked to come with me whenever she could. Not so much after Susie was born.”
“What did she do while you were away?”
“She had a ministry with the women in our village. They’d get together and sew and trade recipes. She taught them basic hygiene. They loved her. I think it was because she was always laughing.”
His hand at her waist moved, restless. “I’m sorry. Maybe you don’t like me talking about her.”
“I don’t mind,” she said quietly. “Susan and Susie are part of you.”
But the sunlit trees had dimmed. Of course he’d go back to Alaska. Beartooth and Silverthrone and Denali rose before her, somber shadows. Let him return to his mountains and his memories of Susan.
She straightened. Every day, she was getting stronger. Yes, she was, and she was going to hang onto her hard-won independence.
The wind freshened, murmuring around the tower, and he said, “We’d better go down. Sometime I’ll wrap you up in my parka, and we’ll come watch the sun set.”
Not likely. But the wind made off with her thoughts and blew the scent of pine into her face, and by the time she’d scrambled down the steps, she could smile again.
He backed the Jeep and turned it down the hill. “Your aunt is going to be wondering what happened to you.”
“She suggested that you might want to eat supper with us.”
He glanced at her. “Do you suggest it also?”
“If you don’t mind roast beef and sweet potatoes.”
“What’s for dessert?”
“Greedy varlet! I’ll serve you ice cubes with a mint sprig, and charge you double.”
He grinned. “There I go again. I might even lose my rank as varlet.”
Come to think of it, what were they going to have for dessert? Something from the freezer. A pie would be done if she put it in the oven first thing.
“What do you think about pie?”
“R-squared or R-round?”
“My aunt is going to enjoy talking with you tonight. I might not be able to keep up. The round kind.”
He said he liked pie, any kind, and the meal came together without serious delay. Her aunt showed him around the house, knowing that she’d rather be left alone to cook, and when it was ready, they ate at the kitchen table.
As she’d thought, Aunt Lin drew him into conversation, and before long they were discussing cameras, the merits of black-and-white photography, and favorite places to hike.
They didn’t exclude her, but someone had to see to the food, and she didn’t mind. He described his photographs of glaciers, glancing at her and making her laugh.
After he’d gone, her aunt gazed at her with a smile. “I like that man, very much. I’m happy for you.”
“I don’t know him very well,” Madeleine said, and fortunately, her cell phone rang.
Mother sounded more upset than usual. “Madeleine, I’m so glad I could get ahold of you. I saw a TV special about the Pine Barrens, and they said criminals come there and bury bodies. Sounds like the Mafia, if you ask me.”
“I haven’t seen a single Mafia.”
“You never know! I’m going to send your father’s pistol. Then at least you can protect yourself.”
“Please! I don’t want a gun,” Madeleine said. “I never could shoot straight, remember? And I don’t have a permit. You wouldn’t want me to get arrested, would you?”
“I suppose not. Tell me—have you met any interesting men or anything?”
She could have scripted the rest of the conversation from memory, but finally she could hang up. She flexed her shoulders to stretch out the knots. Why not take a nice hot shower?
The next morning, she made zucchini bread with pineapple, walnuts, and raisins along with the usual spices, and Aunt Lin declared it a success.
“Six loaves!” her aunt said. “Better get them into the freezer before I eat any more.”
By the time she�
�d wrapped up the breads, Aunt Lin had walked into the Blue Room and was frowning at the fireplace. “That monstrosity! How long before we can tear it down?”
“Remi’s looking for a job. He said to leave a message with Timothy.”
“I’ll phone this afternoon,” her aunt said. “Let’s work on our own projects until he gets here.”
Good, she could do something more with that paper on leavening.
Mid-afternoon, Nathan phoned, with voices sounding in the background.
“Mollie.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, I was hoping for that.”
She smiled at the phone. Either he was having a very good day or everything had gone wrong. “You may explain.”
“Charlotte’s in the hospital with acute pancreatitis. And one of her clients has gone into labor. The family doesn’t have insurance, so it looks like I’m going to be delivering that baby.”
“At home?”
“If I don’t do it, they won’t have any medical support at all. I called because Charlotte said you might help.”
“As long as you remember I’m not trained.”
“I’ll take that as somewhere between the interrogative and the unconditional yes. She told me about your experience. I’ll give you the details when I pick you up.”
“What time?”
“Around six? I’ve got a couple of things to tie up here.”
“Whenever. I’ll be ready.”
CHAPTER 22
Evelyn Bozarth—so wise and loving.
I’d like to go back on my own
and talk to her some more.
We could be friends.
~Journal
Madeleine told Aunt Lin why she’d be gone for the evening, and her aunt looked amused. “You two have the most interesting dates. I won’t wait up.”
She wore her comfortable jeans and a short-sleeved shirt because they’d probably keep the room warm. At least it was a cool night. After she’d clipped her hair away from her face, she packed a gift basket with walnut bread and a jar of honey and tried to remember everything Arlene had taught her.
He was there by six-thirty. “I'm glad you could come,” he said. “I’m not sure what to expect.”
She laughed. “You've only done this a few hundred times before, right?”
