by Catie Rhodes
“It’s time.” She stared into my eyes until I turned away. Gently she cupped my chin and tried to get me to face her again. “Look at me. It’s time. Corman Tolliver is just a way for you to avoid getting back out there. You look like you’re going to spew a little puke every time I say his name. It’s time to date someone real.”
I backed away from her and went to rummage in the cabinets. I found another flathead screwdriver and started working on the other side of the frame.
“Would you stop and talk to me?” She waited a beat. “Please?”
I raised my head.
“And put down the screwdriver?” She gave me a weak smile. “In case I piss you off.”
I put it down on the table. “Why can’t we just get this done?”
“Because I want to talk to you.” She twisted her index finger. “When Carson and I split, I spent the whole first year just numb. I mean everybody in the United States knew he’d had a baby with his mistress and divorced me. Strangers, complete strangers, would come up to me in stores and ask if it happened because I was infertile.”
I wrinkled my nose but kept my silence.
“However awful it sounds, it was worse. Way worse.”
“Did you give any of them a knuckle sandwich?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “I would have.”
“No. I left the country. I went to Scotland, planning to lose myself in history.”
“Did it help?”
“It worked for about two months. Then I met an American who was writing a book about famous murders among royalty. He was a baseball fan. Knew the whole story.”
I would have blown him off, gone to another part of the country, changed my phone number, changed my hair color if I thought it would help. I also knew Hannah had done nothing of the sort. Otherwise she wouldn’t be telling me this story. I braced myself to hear the happy ending and Hannah’s awakening as a new, confident woman.
“I can see the wheels turning behind those dark eyes.” She laughed. “You think I don’t pick up on stuff, but I do. After the first time he mentioned baseball and Carson Phelps to me, I started the process of finding somewhere else to go. I was thinking about Vienna.” She grabbed the flathead screwdriver and started working on the poster frame again, pausing to talk. “I had all my stuff packed, even my makeup.”
“That’s when you know it’s serious,” I said.
She mock glared at me. “I was sitting in the hotel restaurant, having a drink, when a couple sat down near me. Americans. The wife knew exactly who I was and spoke to me.”
“What’d you do?” In spite of myself, Hannah had me. Her tale of not being able to get away from the humiliation of getting dumped had more parallels with my breakup with Dean than I could have imagined.
“I went upstairs, unpacked all my stuff, and went to see the writer at his hotel.” She dug at the staples, eyebrows bunched in concentration. “After the first forty-eight hours, I knew it wouldn’t last.”
“And you dumped him.” This was exactly why I didn’t want to fart around with Nash. Seemed like a lot of effort for nothing.
“Actually, we dated three more months until he moved on to Germany.”
“But why? You could tell he wasn’t right for you after two days.”
“Because I understood he was Mr. Right Now. He was fun, passionate, and had a way with words.” She paused and put her tongue in the corner of her mouth as she worked on the last staple. “It hit me that it didn’t necessarily matter if I spent the rest of my life with this guy. It was more important I focus on living in the moment and moving on from Carson.” She used the screwdriver to wedge between the cardboard backing and the frame. “I think it’s time for you to find Mr. Right Now and move past Dean.”
“How you do know I haven’t?”
“Because you looked terrified when Nash asked you to go on another date with him.” She dropped the screwdriver on the table next to the print and stared so hard at me I could have sworn she knew every detail of my thoughts.
“Maybe I’m just scared of listening to him holler ‘yeehaw’ again.” I stepped away from the table and leaned against the wooden cabinet where she kept all her equipment and licked my lips. She wasn’t right about me. I knew how to find my way back to normal, and I didn’t want Nash Redmond along for the ride. Hannah searched my face and pressed her lips together.
“I know you took Nash to the cemetery last night to scare him off.”
“You don’t know that.” I snorted, but I had to fake it. “He caught me off guard and wanted to go somewhere. Where was I supposed to take him that time of night?”
She held up her hand for me to stop.
“Give Nash a chance.” She widened her eyes and fixed me with the same stare she gave misbehaving kids in her museum. “A fair chance.”
“So I can listen to him make fun of everything I say and the way I say it?”
“Don’t be such a chicken shit.” The skin around her eyes crinkled, but she didn’t quite smile. “He’s just in a different environment and trying to adjust. Maybe not very diplomatically, but I don’t think he means anything malicious.” She came to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “And he likes you.”
“He might not.”
“Honey, it’s all over his face every time he looks at you.”
“Can’t we just open the frame? Might be something interesting in there.”
“I’ll agree on one condition.”
“I give him a fair chance.”
“Not exactly. Go on the date with an open mind. Let yourself have fun.”
“Fine. Can we see what’s in there now?” I walked back to the table, Hannah trailing me.
I used the screwdriver she laid down to pull up the cardboard. Underneath it laid a yellowed piece of poster board. I drew it out and turned it over. Adam’s drawing. Hannah squeed and bounced on her feet. I smiled at her. Hand trembling, I drew it out of the frame and placed it face up on the table. Hannah crowded next to me, so close I could smell the floral scented soap she used.
Adam’s drawing still reminded me of a puzzle with pieces missing.
An old stone church took up the right side of the drawing. The top part of the church included a belfry, a peaked roof, and two sharp spires. The bottom part showed a keyhole door with elaborate stained glass panels on each side. The church’s steps opened up to a patch of green lawn. Big, black cats stood on the lawn, their heads raised to watch something above them. Whatever they’d been looking at was missing, white space on the left edge of the poster board. Beyond the cats was a body of water with broken off trees sticking up like spears. The drawing ended at the edge of what looked like some sort of island, the empty space another missing hole.
“Do you know this church?” Hannah leaned over my shoulder.
“I’ve never even heard of a church out in the deep woods. And there sure ain’t one this fancy around here, in or out of the woods.” I stepped back from the table. This was just another damn dead end.
“A lot of the downtown area was probably woods back when the treasure was hidden.” Hannah leaned over the table, her face only a few inches from the drawing. I doubted she’d find anything new.
“Which makes it even harder to figure out where this was.”
Hannah stared at her father’s drawing a few more seconds and went back to the poster frame. She picked up the cardboard backing and began putting it back in the frame. She stopped and fiddled with something in the top corner.
“Need help?”
“I guess. There’s something stuck in here, and now I can’t get the cardboard to fit in right.”
I walked over and took out the folded piece of notebook paper. “Somebody must have used this as a makeshift shim to get the stuff in the frame not to move around. With Adam’s poster board gone, no telling what we’ll have to do to make it true again.”
“A shim?” She shook her head. “Don’t tell me. I’ll take your word for it.”
I found a piece of cardboard
and placed it behind the movie poster. Perfect fit. Hannah used the head of the screwdriver to push down a couple of the staples.
“Let’s see how this looks.” She turned the picture around and gave it a good shake. The Jazz Singer stayed in place.
The black opal around my neck put out a little flash of heat and my fingers holding the paper tingled. A message from beyond? I glanced around the room, fully expecting to see Adam telling me what to do next, but Hannah and I were alone in the room. I unfolded the paper. Hannah crowded close, her humid breath ruffling my hair.
“That’s Daddy’s handwriting.” She snatched the paper from me and read aloud.
“Peri Jean,
I sincerely hope you are the one finding this drawing. This picture came from a series of stained glass panels Reginald Mace hid around town. Unfortunately, by the time I found them, two had been broken and the information they contained lost.
Though I can’t be sure, I believe this old church is where the treasure is hidden. I hope you have better luck than I did figuring out where it is.
Though I was unable to convey it in this drawing, there was a message in the stained glass. It said, “Palmore Pond.”
I should have never gone out there to look for myself. In doing so, I betrayed my wife and daughter. If you are still in touch with my beloved Hannah, I hope you’ll pass my love on to her.
Be careful,
Adam Kessler”
Her voice trembled on her father’s name. She folded the letter carefully, but her trembling chin gave away her emotions. I hovered near, not sure what to say or do. When I cried over my daddy, I just wanted people to let me do it and not tell me about silver linings or how much he loved me. She took a couple of deep breaths and swiped a hand over her eyes. A smile quivered on her lips. She was ready to move on.
“Did the letter have a date on it?” I wanted to take it from Hannah, unfold it and see for myself. I didn’t quite dare.
“I got some ideas when he might’ve written this letter. Had the information a while, but it just now made sense.” Hannah walked to the door, memories, dreams, or both clouding her eyes. “Come on.”
I scurried after her, heart jittering. She drifted like a sleepwalker, her steps unhurried and unsure. She unlocked the door to her office and went inside. I stayed close behind her in case she was in some sort of trance. Hannah sat down behind her desk and took out an old datebook emblazoned with the year her father died.
“I found this when Mama insisted I either take possession of Daddy’s things or let her dispose of them.”
I remembered the argument. I’d been so wrapped up in my grandmother’s death it barely registered at the time. “I’m sorry I didn’t—”
She gave her head a vague shake and waved me off. “Daddy kept a meticulous schedule.” She opened the planner and pushed it across the desk, one pink fingernail marking the square she wanted me to see. “This was six months to the day before he died.”
“Palmore Pond.” I read the entry out loud. My fatigue-blurred brain played dead. “That’s the place he mentioned in his letter.”
“He also said he betrayed me and mama by going out there.” She leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her mouth. “I think that’s when he started getting sick. The treasure made him sick. He knew the doctors couldn’t make him better, so he hanged himself.”
The knowledge kicked me in the chest hard enough to knock loose any words I might have said. How many people had Priscilla Herrera’s curse hurt or killed? No wonder she was unable to enjoy her eternal rest. Maybe she deserved whatever punishment she got.
“Let me get this straight. You’re saying he wrote the letter after he got sick? During his final six months?” Another question squirmed around my mind, but I wanted to make sure I followed Hannah’s thinking before I voiced it.
“There’ll never be any way to know for sure, but yes.” Hannah opened one of her desk drawers and dug around inside it. She rose, holding two thin books.
“But how did he know to address it to me?”
She smiled and pushed the books across the table. “I’m ahead of you this time.”
I picked up the books and read the covers. Both were on the art of divination. One mentioned, in particular, seeing the future. My mind pushed the pieces around, trying to get a clear picture of Adam Kessler’s final months. He got too close to a Mace Treasure clue and got sick. His death imminent, Adam put puzzle pieces in place for me to find. I couldn’t piece together how he’d have known I’d eventually look for the Mace Treasure but supposed it didn’t matter.
“I didn’t realize there was a pond at Palmore Sawmill ruins.” Hannah squinted at me from across the desk.
“There’s no pond there.” Grief sliced through me, carving away at the veneer of normality I wore like a too-thin garment. Michael Gage killed my friend Chase at the old Palmore Sawmill ruins. The idea of going out there nearly made me sick.
“There’s probably a clue how to get to the church in the drawing at Palmore Pond. We need to figure out where it is.” Hannah pulled a thick volume on Burns County history out of her bookshelf and flipped through it.
I yawned, only remembering to put my hand over my mouth after I had it wide open.
“How much did you sleep last night?” Hannah asked.
“A couple of hours. Maybe.” I yawned again, this time not bothering to put my hand over my mouth.
“Why don’t you go home and sleep? You can be fresh for your date with Nash.”
I made a face at her, and she held up one finger in warning.
“Remember what I said about giving him a chance.” She turned her attention back to the book. “Meanwhile, I’m going to see if I can find out about this church or the pond.”
I stumbled through the darkened museum and let myself out the side door, locking it behind me. I couldn’t wait to go get home to my bed, thought I’d fall into a sleep coma. But I didn’t.
I BREATHED a sigh of relief at the sight of Wade’s motorcycle parked in its usual spot under the oak tree in the front yard. I found him in the kitchen rummaging in the refrigerator. I leaned against the archway separating the kitchen from the living room and watched him.
“Where you been?” He extracted a carton of milk, popped it open and sniffed it. It must have been acceptable because he swung the refrigerator door closed and got a glass out of the cabinet.
“Hannah’s. I think we found a map of sorts.”
Wade spun around and stared at me. “And?”
I explained about Adam’s drawing. Wade finished the milk and moved on to the orange juice while I talked. “Hannah’s researching the church in the drawing and Palmore Pond.”
“You’re not going to either place alone.” He upended the orange juice and guzzled the last few swallows right out of the container. Gross.
“Did I say I planned to?” We glared at each other, and my skin heated. I rubbed my hand over my face. “The Mace Treasure curse is still in place. That’s some nasty shit.”
“If you get the curse off, can’t you access the clues?”
“I can’t get the curse off without accepting Priscilla Herrera’s mantle or finding where she’s buried and getting the spelling stones myself.” My words ended in a yawn. “I’ve got to work in a few hours. Maybe we can argue this at Long Time Gone?” I smiled. “You can rescue me from marauding rednecks.”
Wade chuckled. “You don’t need rescuing. Sometimes you just need a little extra muscle.”
I walked down the hall to my bedroom, Wade’s heavy footsteps behind me. One hand on the door, I turned to him. “What?”
His eyes widened, and something shifted in their dark depths. He shook himself. “Your room. I want to make sure it’s empty.”
“You were here when I got here. How could someone be in the house?” I opened the door and let him follow me inside.
“Michael Gage managed to escape from a prison hospital ward after pretending he had brain damage.” Wade opened the closet, stu
ck his arm inside, and swept it back and forth. “Far as I’m concerned, the man might be able to walk on water. We can’t underestimate him.” Wade finished his search and left, closing the door softly behind him.
I put my pajamas back on and climbed into bed. My eyes slid closed almost as soon as my head touched the pillow. In my drowsing state, I heard but didn’t process the soft noises of Wade bumping around the house. The expression on his face in the hallway came back to me and played around the cliffs and hills of my dreams. I fell into the blackness of sleep.
A light touch on my ribcage pulled me out of deep sleep, but I didn’t fully wake. Gentle fingers worked their way under my top. My half-asleep mind told me it was Wade, finally changed his mind about being no more than friends. I accepted the information with no argument.
Hot fingers stole over my skin and circled my breast, running gently over the nipple. I arched my back and moaned but kept my eyes shut. Would Wade change his mind if I acted fully awake? I didn’t know, but I did know I didn’t want him to stop. I kept my eyes shut and let my head fall to the side on the pillow. If this was how it had to happen, I could play along.
The bed moved and dented as he put his weight on it. His beard tickled my neck before his lips touched my jaw. His tongue sent a tickle of fire through my body to coil in my center. The hand under my top massaged and teased. The world pulsed with every heartbeat. I’d wanted this with Wade since we first met, even while I was with Dean. My legs parted, and his knees pushed them farther apart.
Oh, shit. Wade and I were really going to happen, right now in this bed. I focused on the heat radiating off him, drew in a deep breath. The languid haze of lust drained away. My mind woke up completely. Wait a minute. Wade always smelled like sunshine and outdoors. I drew in another deep breath. All I smelled was…peppermint and a sharp chemical scent.
“Me-he-he-he-he.”
My eyes snapped open. Michael Gage’s soulless black eyes stared at me. I drew in breath to scream. He clamped his hand over my mouth and put his weight down on me, using his body to press me to the bed. I screamed through my nose. My eyeballs felt like they might pop out of my head, but I kept right on.
