by Jodi Thomas
Angie was beginning to think she’d fallen for a trick. Maybe the Franklin sisters were just telling stories. “What do you think, Yancy?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know the ladies except by sight, but I’m hoping they know something, because I’m out of ideas. The sheriff says I can’t explore the place without permission from the owner, so all I can do is hope information falls in my lap. But don’t worry, Angie, I’ll be nice to them. I can smell supper cooking and hope I’ll be invited.”
“You’re all invited. I made enough spaghetti for a dozen.” She wanted to tell them about how her mother always made a big pot of sauce on rainy days, then froze servings for meals later, but she doubted the three men would care.
Wilkes moved to the kitchen as if to help. She handed him the spoon and nodded toward the pot of sauce.
When Dan and Yancy started talking about the problems at the roadside parks, Wilkes leaned close to Angie and whispered, “This wasn’t exactly what I had planned for tonight.”
“Me, either, but this is exciting. Just think, you might find out something about this town that you don’t know. I’ve got the feeling the sisters have never told this story before. Daisy looked like she didn’t want Rose to mention anything.”
He shook his head. “Not likely.”
Ten minutes later the sisters rushed in. Their little folding umbrellas did nothing to keep the rain off their tent dresses. The wet material clung like shrink-wrap over bodies rich in bulges.
The men moved away from the fireplace so the sisters could sit close to dry their clothes. Angie served cocoa as they all pulled up kitchen chairs and sat down in the little living room. The rain outside, the fireplace crackling, the warm smells of home cooking, all made for a night of storytelling, but from the tears sparkling in Daisy Franklin’s eyes Angie wasn’t sure this would be a tale anyone would want to hear.
For a few minutes they talked of nothing, the day, the rain, the upcoming holidays. Then, as if he were the judge over the proceedings, Dan took the lead. “Miss Franklin,” he said to Rose, who usually did most of the talking for the two sisters, “we understand you have news about the old house on the north road.”
Rose nodded. “I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Very few know this story and I’ll only tell it once. I wouldn’t be telling it now except Yancy’s last name is Grey, so my sister and I finally agreed that he has a right to know.”
Angie saw Wilkes roll his eyes as if to hint they were playing it up a little too much.
“Take your time, Miss Franklin,” Dan encouraged. “We’re looking for anything you might know about the old Stanley house or the people who once lived there.”
Everyone waited except Daisy Franklin. The poor woman looked as if she might bolt. This subject was obviously not one she wanted to talk about. Her little umbrella made a clicking sound like a tiny chime as she twisted it back and forth in her hands.
“I’ll start with what everyone in town probably knows.” Rose ignored her sister’s panic. “Almost thirty years ago my sister Daisy and I fell in love with the same boy. He worked for our father.” She looked at Daisy. “We had a small dairy farm and he mostly made deliveries. Rose or I would go along and collect the money. He had a kindness about him that made us both feel special just to know him.”
“What was his name?” Dan asked.
“His name was Galen Stanley. His family could trace their roots all the way back to the original folk who were among the first settlers. He said his great-great-grandfather had been the first blacksmith in the area.
“Galen was a good person, but something was wrong with his old man. He’d served time in prison, and most said he wasn’t right in the head after that. He’d grown up with the Grey boys down the road but they had a falling-out twenty years before when they were all young and running wild. Poor farm kids with nothing to do.”
Daisy interrupted. “We don’t know why the two families hated each other. That happened before Rose and I were born.”
Rose nodded and continued, “As the years passed, the two families grew to hate each other more and more.”
Daisy sliced in again. “Teachers used to make sure there were no Greys and Stanleys in the same class.”
Yancy moved to the edge of his chair. “I’m a Grey. Maybe it’s the hate I feel when I walk near the old house if it was owned by the Stanleys. Only, I’ve never heard of any Greys or Stanleys who live here. Seems like if they were both big families they’d have some descendants.”
“There ain’t any anymore,” Daisy whispered. “Left more than twenty-five years ago, I’m guessing.”
No one commented on Yancy’s speculation about why he might sense hate from the house, and Rose continued, “Galen’s father was a mean, mean man. He was hard on his only child. We all saw it. Even when he was a kid, Galen would come to school all beat-up. Not from just a whipping or a slap, but deep bruises that lay on top of each other.”
Daisy decided she wanted to break in again. She waved her hand until her sister noticed her and let her have the floor. “My mother said Galen’s father got messed up on drugs in the early sixties. The house he’d inherited was known for wild parties. But by the time Galen came along, his dad had straightened up some. He’d married a girl fifteen years younger, claimed he wanted her young so he could finish raising her right. No one in town saw her much after she married. She had Galen within a year. There were no other children. Word was she miscarried a few times. Some claimed she fell a lot.
“Galen was a good kid despite his mean father. Tried to do what was right, made good grades, but it wasn’t easy with a drunk for a dad. When he was seventeen, he fell hard for a girl who claimed her heritage was Gypsy, too. She was from the family the Stanleys hated. She was a Grey.”
Tears slid down Daisy’s cheek as she continued. “Story goes that Galen and the girl ran off one night. Their fathers set aside the feud and went after them. When they found them, the account was told to my father that they stripped the girl and tied her to the front of Galen’s pickup so she had to watch them take turns beating him. Every time he’d fall or crawl out of the headlight beams, one of the men would drag him back so she could see how bad he looked. His own father snapped a bone in Galen’s arm just to hear her scream. She passed out before the beating was over. If she knew what happened next, she never said.
“No one in town saw Galen again. My father said the few who knew of the beating thought his own mother wouldn’t have recognized him anyway when the fathers finished with him. One told my father that Galen’s own father killed him that night. Another claimed Galen just started running and never stopped. The girl’s father drove her home still tied to the truck.”
Rose broke in. “Our dad believed that what the fathers did that night put a curse on both families.”
Daisy nodded. “Galen’s father died before Christmas that year, and when the girl’s family found out she was pregnant, they disowned her. A month later her father, Mr. Grey, was paralyzed in a car wreck. His wife loaded him up and moved away the next spring, even before the baby her daughter carried was born. No one knows where they went but I’d bet that they’re both dead.
“After that, all Greys and Stanleys either moved away or died off. A house fire killed a few. Layoffs made some leave. Two Stanley brothers who supposedly witnessed the beating killed each other in a gunfight. Within a year no Stanleys remained alive except Galen’s mother. She lived in the old house you’ve been asking about. Kept it dark all the time and only walked into town a few times a year. Folks said she was ghost thin.”
“What happened to the girl? The one Galen got pregnant. The one who had to watch the beating,” Yancy asked.
“She had the baby. Lived with Galen’s mom for a few years in that old house on the north road. The Grey girl was no more than a child having a child. Then the
town lost track of her. They say she just left one night with the baby. A few years later, four or five after Galen’s beating and maybe even his death, a postman found Galen’s mother’s body. She’d been dead so long she wasn’t much more than bones laid out in her garden.”
The room was silent. Finally, Yancy asked, “What was Galen’s wife’s name?”
Rose straightened and looked directly at Yancy. “I don’t know if she and Galen had time to marry when they ran off. Her name was Grey. Jewel Grey.” A tear ran down Rose’s chubby cheek. “I believe she had a son. He would be about your age...if he’s still alive.”
Yancy put his head in his hands. Everyone in the room sat silent. Angie guessed that no one had any trouble putting the pieces together.
Suddenly, Yancy bolted for the door before anyone could stop him. He was gone in a flash. Everyone let out the air they’d been holding at once. They all knew that somehow this wasn’t just the story of the old house. It was Yancy’s story.
While Dan was saying they should all give Yancy time, and the sisters were commenting that Yancy looked a little like his father, Angie tossed the wooden spoon at Wilkes and whispered, “Finish up dinner. I’ll be right back.”
He looked as if she’d just asked him to do brain surgery, but she didn’t wait around to hear any argument.
She didn’t have to look too far. She found Yancy standing on the edge of her dock. Walking up behind him, she said quietly, “If you’re thinking of jumping in, I should warn you it’s only about four feet deep.”
Yancy didn’t turn around. “Go away.”
The pain in his voice made her brave. Without a word, she put her arms around him and hugged him. When he tried to tug away, she held on tighter. He swore, not at her she knew. She simply tightened her grip.
The cold air, thick with rain, seemed to move over them both, soothing cracks in their souls and washing away the horror of the story.
Finally, he whispered, “Please go away.”
“Can’t do that,” she said.
“Didn’t you hear about my family? They were terrible, terrible people. No wonder my mom was a druggie. Can you imagine what she suffered at the hands of her own father? My grandfather was in prison, a loser like me. Sounds like he was abusive to his young wife and his only son. Maybe he even killed my dad.”
Yancy swore at the world, but Angie just hung on tight.
“I always wanted a family, but not this one. I don’t want any of them. You can take the sisters’ story and keep it. I don’t want any part of it.”
When he dropped to his knees on the dock, she tumbled down with him. She didn’t let go, but she shifted around until she could look him in the face. All she saw was dark eyes and dark shadows.
“I come from a family the wolves wouldn’t claim,” he cried out. “All my life I’ve always wanted to know who my people were and now I know they were no good.”
Angie shook her head. “That’s not what I heard. The sisters said your father, Galen, was kind. They both loved him so much they never married. All he did wrong was love a girl, your mother. And she kept you. No abortion. No adoption. So she must have loved you. And your grandmother on your father’s side took her in. That must have been very brave.”
“You think my father’s dead? I don’t have his last name, so they didn’t marry.”
Angie thought about it. “I think he is or he would have come back. I also think he didn’t know about you, because if he had, he’d have come back to see what a fine man you’ve become. All the residents at the retirement home love you. I even heard one of the volunteers say she wished you were her grandson.”
“You don’t understand,” he whispered more to himself than her.
She laughed. “Hey, I’ve got an uncle about to be arrested by the FBI and a father who did the books for a drug business until someone killed him in an alley. I’ve got an aunt who would step over me if I were dying, and complain about the mess I was making. If we all let a few relatives define our lives, we’d probably all be in jail.”
“I think I would have been happier thinking I had no relatives,” Yancy said.
“Me, too.” She took his big, rough hand. “Since we’re both out here alone, how about we decide to be each other’s family? I could be your sister and you could be the brother I always wanted to protect me.”
“That mean I can come to Thanksgiving dinner?” Yancy finally raised his head to look at her.
“Sure, and I’ll call whenever I need anything moved or fixed. You may count me as only one sister, but I’ll keep you busy.”
“That sounds like a good plan. I’ve always wanted a little sister.” Tears were still shining on his cheeks, but Yancy smiled.
He stood, pulling her to her feet. “Speaking of food, I’m starving. Nothing makes you hungrier than digging up all your dead relatives.”
She knew he was putting on a brave face, but she let him.
As they walked back to the house in the dark, Yancy added, “Thanks, Angie, for not letting go of me back there. I was tumbling into a dark place. I think I can handle this now. Do you really come from a messed-up family?”
“Anytime, brother. We’ll eat tonight and rebury all the bad relations tomorrow.” She laughed. “And yes, I was telling the truth about my family. The whole truth.”
“Maybe it shouldn’t be, but that’s real comforting to know.” Yancy put his arm over her shoulders. “Thanks for coming out in the rain to get me.”
Angie began to run as soft rain blended with the tears she hadn’t noticed. “It’s raining! My hair really gets curly when it rains!”
When they got to the porch, he stopped. “You know, one thing I learned in prison was no matter how bad things get, they can always get worse.” He squeezed her hand. “Well, tonight I figured out that having one person who won’t let go can make the trouble bearable.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Wilkes
WILKES WATCHED ANGIE and Yancy walk back in holding hands. If he’d been younger, he might have been angry or jealous, but he recognized it for what it was—Angie had cared enough to help.
The rain had made her hair look as if she had a strawberry-colored halo. The urge to hold her was so great he feared he’d have to break at least one leg to keep from running to her.
The woman had no idea how beautiful she was. She’d helped Yancy when no one else in the room knew what to do for a man whose world was falling apart.
Yancy walked over and hugged each of the Franklin sisters, then they all sat down at the little table made for four. Elbow to elbow they broke bread together as friends.
Wilkes had done his best to finish up the meal. He’d had to scrape the burned part off the garlic bread, and the spaghetti was overcooked, but no one really noticed the food anyway. They were all trying to make Yancy feel better, and the best way to do that seemed to be to not talk about the old house.
The Franklin sisters giggled when Wilkes teased them. Dan promised he’d pull his weapon if Yancy told one more joke he’d heard at the retirement community where he worked. They all corrected one another on the proper way to eat spaghetti. Angie laughed so hard her sides hurt and Wilkes told her the only cure was wine.
The meal ended with the Franklin sisters announcing they’d brought s’mores for dessert. Rose roasted the marshmallows and Daisy divided up and stacked the graham crackers and chocolate.
As soon as the dishes were done, everyone hugged goodbye. Wilkes was happy to finally be alone with Angie.
She talked about her day as they put the furniture back in order. He could hear her growing love for the museum. He could also see how tired she was. The story the sisters told had drained everyone. No matter how much he wanted to touch Angie, he decided maybe tonight wasn’t the night.
“This plan of a dinner for two did
n’t work very well,” he said, smiling. “How about next week we try Lubbock. Just once I’d like to look across the table and see only you.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. This was hard on Yancy, but now he can start looking ahead and not behind him.”
She nodded.
Wilkes wasn’t surprised to find Doc Holliday asleep on his coat when he dropped back to the bedroom to retrieve it.
“I’d better call it a night,” he said when he walked back into the tiny living area. “I’ve got a full day tomorrow, and Uncle Vern’s already told me he’s not going to be there to help. Plans to join Carter Mayes in his search for the stick people.”
“You think he’ll ever find them?” she said as they moved to the door.
Wilkes shook his head. “If they existed, someone would have found them by now. People have been wandering around the canyons for hundreds of years.”
He pulled on his coat and moved to the door. The night had been interesting but not what he expected. In a way, he’d learned a great deal about her. The kindness she showed the sisters and Yancy had surprised him. He’d known these people all his life. She was new here but her heart was open. They had been an odd group that he never would have thought would blend together, but they had.
She handed Wilkes a take-home container of spaghetti for Vern.
Wilkes just stood by the door waiting. He’d said she’d have to make the first move, and he was a man of his word.
The thought that they might spend the rest of their lives as friends crossed his mind. He’d never be able to survive in a world where he couldn’t touch her. Even tonight with the sheriff on one side of him and Rose Franklin on the other, Wilkes’s thoughts were definitely X-rated. At one point he missed the punch line to Yancy’s joke because he was busy thinking of how much he wanted to brush Angie’s hair away from her throat and kiss his way down to her...
