Her Destiny

by Aimée Thurlo

  Lanie went to the kitchen and found it empty. Stillness filled the house. Marlee was probably still asleep. A look outside confirmed that Gabriel was already at work.

  After fixing some instant oatmeal, she walked about with her cereal bowl and looked around. How odd that, despite all the little trinkets that made Marlee’s home so pleasant, there were no photographs anywhere. Then again, knowing what she did about Four Winds and its residents, Lanie thought perhaps that was to be expected.

  Checking the clock on the wall, Lanie rinsed out her cereal bowl and placed it on the drain rack. It was time to get going.

  The crisp morning air made her walk a pleasant one. She’d always enjoyed mornings and the feel of a new day filled with promise and possibilities. It was a clean slate waiting to be written on.

  She arrived at Alma’s a short time later. The little bell sounded as she walked inside, but Alma was nowhere in sight.

  “Lanie, is that you?” Alma called out.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “I’m in the back. You’re just in time.”

  Lanie hurried through the shop and saw Alma trying to move an antique rolltop desk that looked as if it weighed more than both of them combined. “Whoa! Hang on. I’ll give you.a hand.”

  Lanie took one corner and, coordinating with Alma, pushed it across the room. “What next?” she asked, hoping no more moving was on the agenda.

  “I have to clear this side of the room as much as possible, including taking down the blinds. I’ll be taking photos of all the smaller items we’ll be advertising in the catalog, like the snuff boxes, storage boxes and such, and the lighting’s got to be just right.”

  Lanie stared at the two massive bookcases that stood against the wall. “Everything?”

  “Those bookcases will have to be moved out into the hall, but don’t worry, it isn’t as hard as it appears. Once the books are off the shelves, they’re quite manageable.”

  Working alongside Alma, Lanie stored the vintage books inside small cardboard boxes. Alma was almost twice Lanie’s age, but she seemed to have limitless energy. As Lanie cleared the shelf closest to her, she glanced at the titles. “You sure do have a lot of books on Native American art.” She picked up one ragged volume that seemed to be falling apart and handled it carefully. “This one looks so old!”

  “It’s been out of print for a century or so.” Alma smiled. “That one’s going to an antiquarian book dealer in California.”

  Lanie remembered Rosa telling her that Alma was an expert. Now she understood why. “Do you keep some of these for your own use?”

  “Of course. I’ve got an extensive library on the antiques I’m likely to come across and handle here.”

  Lanie leafed through the book carefully, studying handdrawn sketches of Southwestern pottery. Maybe one of these books would have some information about her bowl.

  Alma touched Lanie lightly on the arm. “You’re welcome to borrow whatever you want, but right now I need you to help me move the books.”

  Lanie placed the book in a box and gave her boss a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist a peek.”

  “If you’re interested in Indian artifacts, I can show you some of my own pieces. I have a feeling that little bowl of yours has whetted your appetite.”

  Lanie shook her head. “I’m afraid my life-style lends itself more to new car seats than to fine antiques.”

  “I understand.” Alma brought out two floodlight stands, a tripod and a large camera case from the closet. “This equipment is the best I can afford. Catalogs are the heart of my business, so I need top-of-the-line photo gear—the modern to set off the old, as it were.” As she hung up a pale blue background cloth on a sturdy old table, the doorbell sounded.

  “I’ll get that,” Alma said. “Go on clearing the shelves.”

  Lanie heard Alma talking to someone in the next room as she continued to pack up the books. She’d filled two more boxes and had started on a third when she noticed a book that had fallen behind a bookcase. She reached down and managed to slowly free it.

  It was a leather-bound manual for buyers of Indian arts and crafts, printed around the turn of the century. It fell open naturally to a section in the last quarter of the book, as if to the favorite passage of a much loved novel.

  In the center of the page, Lanie saw a sketch of a bowl much like her own. The markings were similar, though not identical. The brief description at the bottom of the sketch made a shiver run up her spine.

  The bowl pictured had been one of the two fashioned by a Navajo skinwalker. The second one had been listed as lost. The one pictured was purported to have been used to hold the ashes that a Navajo skinwalker needed to fashion a crude drawing of the man he intended to kill. The similarity to her own bowl and the mention of the other artifact unsettled her. It was obvious Alma had seen this sometime in the past, since the book opened to the passage automatically. Had she kept it hidden, then forgotten about it?

  So engrossed was she in the book, that Lanie never heard Alma come in.

  Alma cleared her throat loud enough to get Lanie’s attention, then smiled when Lanie jumped. “It seems I can’t keep you away from the books. Looks like I’ve hired a future antiquarian-book dealer.”

  “Sorry. I found this wedged behind the bookcase. It must have fallen there, but when I took it out, I couldn’t resist looking inside. I found a sketch of a bowl much like mine.”

  Alma took it from her hands and looked at the cover. “I wondered where that had disappeared to. I had been looking through it for information and spotted that passage, but then I got busy with something else and set the book down. It must have fallen back there.” She closed the book carefully, then placed it on the table she’d be using as a photo backdrop. “Unfortunately this book is quite misleading, because the anthropologist who wrote it didn’t check out his facts. The book was written during a time when Indians were sick and tired of having anthropologists dissecting everything they did or said, and quite frankly, some made up things to shock or confuse the gullible white man. Most of the anthropologists knew that was happening and checked out their information with independent sources, but this guy didn’t. His work is notoriously inaccurate.”

  Lanie was unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed. As she thought back to what she’d read, and realized how willing she’d been to accept the story, she suddenly felt very foolish.

  Alma smiled at her gently, misinterpreting Lanie’s reaction. “I’m sorry. I can see you were hoping your bowl would turn out to be a priceless artifact, but honestly, that seldom happens.”

  Lanie started to point out that it had to be of some value, since so many others were apparently intent on having it, but changed her mind. It made no sense to dispute the issue when there was nothing to gain except alienating her new employer. At the moment, the last thing she needed was to lose her job.

  Hearing the phone ring, Alma rolled her eyes. “It’s always like this when I take on a big project. Normally it’s as quiet as a graveyard in here. Keep working, I’ll be right back.”

  Alma still hadn’t returned by the time Lanie finished packing the last of the books. Rather than wait, she slid the empty bookcase out into the hall by herself. Lanie had just started moving the boxes filled with books when Alma came back.

  “You should have told me,” Alma said, a stern look on her face.

  “You mean before I moved anything?” Lanie looked at Alma in surprise. The woman’s gaze was fixed and hard, and a muscle at the corner of her mouth twitched quickly.

  “No, about this…” She slapped what appeared to be a thin newsletter with the back of her hand. “You should have told me all the problems you were having with the bowl, the break-ins, all that trouble….” She shook her head. “This is our newspaper, the Last Word Ted Burns, the young man who works for me occasionally, just dropped a copy by, and it’s all in here. Your bowl, and you by association, are now at the center of some very nasty business. And after people read
this article, things are bound to get worse.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lanie took the paper from Alma’s hand, and scanned the lead story. As she read the account, her temper began to boil. “This is really slanted, Alma. Truly. Yes, the events are basically correct, but the reporter makes a lot of assumptions. For one thing, he figures I’m going to be staying here for the rest of my life. That’s just not true! As

  I’ve told you, and everyone else, I’m going to be back on the road the moment my car’s fixed and I can pay for the repairs!”

  Alma blinked owlishly but said nothing.

  “And ‘my home’ wasn’t broken into. It was the boardinghouse. And the thugs that jumped the Blackhorse brothers…well, there’s no telling what that was about. I’m quite sure Gabriel and Lucas have a few enemies of their own.”

  “That’s true enough,” Alma admitted. “But this sort of thing seldom, if ever, happens in our town. It seems that the stories about the peddler always bringing trouble are coming true. What I don’t understand is how that bowl of yours fits in.” Alma pondered it for a moment. “Of course! The rumor mill attributed Mr. Simmons’s good luck, getting that windfall and all, after finding the body, to the peddler. Maybe people figure that you’re getting your bad luck in the beginning, like Simmons did, and soon the tide will turn. They hope the bowl is magic, and that it’ll provide its owner with all kinds of wonderful things.”

  “The only magic my bowl has is its uncanny ability to attract trouble, believe me.” Lanie followed Alma to the front of the store and accepted a cup of tea from her.

  “If people’s imaginations get too fired up, there’ll be even more trouble. You can bank on it,” Alma said. “If you’d like, I could help you put a stop to the rumors. I can take a look at the bowl and give you an honest appraisal. Facts will defuse some of the wishful thinking going around. People value my opinion about antiques around here, though perhaps not as much as they did my sister Emily’s opinion.”

  Alma paused to gaze around the shop, and tears formed in her eyes. “You see, this shop was Emily’s dream come true, not mine. I would have been content to work for a dealer, but Em wanted her own shop. She passed away about a year and a half ago. Sometimes I think the shop itself mourns her. It’s as if a spark has been extinguished.”

  Lanie knew about deaths, how they wrenched out a part of your heart and crushed it. Memories of her days as a teacher crowded her mind. Roy, a student, so full of life and always eager to face his problems square on, had taken such a wrong turn. But his biggest mistake had been trusting her. Lanie’s heart twisted inside her, and she fought back a tear of her own.

  “Now I’ve made you sad,” Alma noted. “I’m sorry. We were talking about your bowl, not Emily. Let’s get back to that. I’ll tell you what. Bring it to me tomorrow, and I’ll have a look at it. I’ll research it thoroughly and give it a firm price range. Then I’ll make sure Ralph prints the story, even if I have to bake him some of my special apple pie. He’s been after me to bake him another ever since I fixed him one for his last birthday. What do you say?”

  “Sounds great to me.” Lanie hoped Alma’s plan would take care of the problem, but if it didn’t, she certainly had nothing to lose.

  Lanie moved to the second bookcase and started to work on it as Alma opened the back door. “It’s starting to get stuffy in here.”

  Lanie placed the books in the remaining cardboard boxes, then stood back. “Let’s move the second bookcase. It’s ready.”

  “We’ll never get it into the hall—it’s too cluttered in here. Let’s move some of these cartons over by the door. They’ll prop it open, and that’ll get them out of our way,” Alma said.

  Once the task was accomplished, Alma pushed the bookcase into the hall as Lanie led the way, guiding it. They were placing it against a wall when a crash sounded in the back room.

  Alma rushed back and Lanie followed, picking her way around the bookshelves. Lanie stepped into the room in time to see Alma straining with the doorknob, trying to pull the door open. Somebody was on the other side, trying equally hard to close it again.

  “Help me, Lanie. It’s a thief!” Alma yelled.

  Just then, whoever was outside let go, and Alma fell back against Lanie. As they both tumbled to the floor, Lanie only got a glimpse of a figure running away outside, carrying something under his arm.

  Alma groaned and Lanie was beside her in a breath. “Don’t move. I’ll call…do they have 911 in Four Winds?”

  “No need, I’m all right. Good thing he didn’t get my camera. It’s still in the case. He only just had time to grab the book I had on the table next to it.” Alma sat up slowly. “Looks like I skinned my elbow,” she said, bending her arm and wincing.

  “Did you see who it was?” Lanie asked.

  Alma shook her head. “Some of the boys at the high school don’t like me. I won’t hire them, even part-time, because they’re too rough with my merchandise. I turned two of them away just a few days ago. They’re probably still angry.” She glanced at the books scattered all over the floor. “They didn’t really want those, you know. They’re just making trouble for me. I’ll probably find the missing book in the trash a few days from now. 1 mean, really, what use would they have for a vintage book? They’re only interested in TV and video games.”

  Lanie helped her up, wishing Alma would have stayed where she was until someone checked her over.

  “I know, you’re thinking old women have old bones, but that just doesn’t apply to me. I’ve always had a strong constitution.” She waved away Lanie’s help. “I can stand on my own, thank you very much.”

  “I’m going to call the sheriff, though. That kid shouldn’t get away with this.”

  Alma shrugged. “I’ll call Sheriff Blackhorse myself, but there’s not going to be much he can do about this. I have a good idea who it could have been, but I didn’t see the boy’s face, just his back.”

  Lanie gathered up the scattered books while Alma used the phone in the other room. She still wasn’t convinced Alma was okay; she’d taken quite a tumble. Once again, Four Winds was showing that it had another side that existed just below its surface. Perhaps the adults were content here, but the kids weren’t that different from the way they were anywhere else.

  Gabriel responded a few minutes after Alma had placed the call. Lanie’s heart skipped a beat as he strode into the room. He was all confidence and raw power. Every fiber in her body came to life, awakened by a yearning so strong it nearly took her breath away.

  His gaze traveled briefly over Lanie, then he went to Alma. “I’ve only got some community first aid, but if you need help, I can make sure we get some county EMTs here.”

  “No need, Sheriff,” Alma said flatly.

  “All right. Then tell me what happened.” His voice was low yet commanding.

  Lanie saw concern flash across his eyes as he heard

  Alma’s account. Listening, Lanie began to think that perhaps she’d been wrong in her earlier assessment about the kids here in Four Winds. It wasn’t that they were a source of trouble the residents didn’t acknowledge, but rather that some hidden balance had shifted since the peddler’s arrival and the kids weren’t acting typically.

  Lanie expelled her breath in a rush. She was really starting to lose it. Now she was searching for esoteric explanations when the facts were plain enough.

  “I’d like to go and put a Band-Aid on my elbow, Sheriff. The scrape is rubbing against my blouse.”

  “Go ahead.” As Alma left the room, Gabriel turned to join Lanie. “Did you see anything that could help me identify the thief?”

  “It all happened in a flash. I didn’t see much of anything, except that he was wearing jeans and a blue nylon jacket.”

  “That sounds like half the boys in town. Blue is one of the school colors. I sure wish she’d told me before today that the high-school kids were giving her a hard time. I’d have put a stop to it in a flash.” Gabriel shook his head, then conti
nued. “Alma said that there were books in the box he scattered, and that he took one of the books with him. Can you add anything to that?”

  She led him into the back room, and as she glanced at the table, suddenly realized which book was missing. “I know the book he took. Alma had just set it down on the table. It was a valuable edition about Native American pottery with hand sketches. It even had something about my bowl. But why did he bother to grab that? Seems to me, he should have tried harder to take the camera, which would have been easier to pawn.”

  “It is odd that he took a book that had information about the bowl. What did it have to say, anyway?”

  She told him, sticking to the facts, then added, “But Alma warned me that although the book itself is a collector’s item because of its age, it’s not an accurate reference book.”

  Gabriel noted the expensive camera case and picked it up to verify the gear was still inside. Things were definitely getting interesting. “She’s never had a break-in or trouble of any sort. Now someone steals a book with information about the bowl.”

  “I hope you’re not linking the two. This wasn’t an attempt to do research. There are other ways of accomplishing that.”

  Gabriel studied the back door, then opened it and looked outside, lost in thought. “How long was the boy in the shop before you two heard him knock the box onto the floor?”

  She stared at the door, eyebrows knitted together. “It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. We were in the hall, not that far away, and kids scaring up trouble generally don’t use the stealth of accomplished thieves.”

  He took a close look at the books that were in the tipped-over box, then picked the container up by the bottom. “I’ll bring this back, but I need to see if I can lift any prints from either the books or the box itself.”

  As Gabriel carried the box to his car, Lanie returned to the front room. Alma was there waiting.

  “That was a bad fall you took, Alma. Why don’t you take it easy for the rest of today?” Lanie suggested.