Gordon looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”
Josie reached forward and tilted the ring toward her. The ruby flashed. “I’m sensitive to presences, anything with spirit attached to it. This is strong.”
“Is it possessed?” asked Minnie.
Josie laughed dismissively. “Oh, no, not like that. There’s a lot of family connection to this. You said it was your mother’s?” She looked at Gordon.
“It was our family’s heirloom engagement ring.” Gordon had planned to give it to Minnie once they were officially engaged. He’d wanted to propose before she left. She’d wanted to get married right away. But Gordon had refused to do either without the ring. It was family tradition.
He gave the ring a final swipe with his handkerchief, studied it for a moment, then proffered it to the Minnie. It was the smallest way to make up for all the ways he’d wronged her. “I believe this is yours.”
18
Minnie gaped at the metal circlet in her palm as if it was a cobra about to strike. He didn’t blame her. The last twelve hours had been a topsy-turvy whirlwind, without a chance to breathe. He leaned closer, intending to say something—anything, he didn’t know what—to explain why he wanted her to have it. No matter what their future would be.
SCREEEECH! Feedback reverberated from Elvis’s sound system. It rang out so loudly it left a foggy dullness in Gordon’s ears when it ended. Despite the closed windows, he could hear someone besides Elvis using the microphone. The voice was decidedly feminine.
Minnie dashed down the stairs. Gordon, tight on her heels, was surprised at how few guests they had to dodge as they descended. The visitors must have followed Minnie’s instructions to enjoy the next set. She opened the door to the back yard and met a wall of people, all focused on the portable stage. Elvis had stepped to the side, chugging a bottle of water while an older woman clutched the microphone stand, a familiar purse slung in the crook of her arm.
Mother? Gordon’s stomach collapsed into a ball of fear. How had she gotten here? What was she doing? Where was Marie?
Gordon tried to surge to the stage, but the entire town crammed into the back yard. He could hardly inch off the back step. He murmured an “excuse me” to the people below him and shouldered his way through, jostling guests and crushing toes with every step. His mother appeared to be holding it together, but her hands shook and she swayed as she moved to the edge of the stage. How long would her strength hold out?
His mother tapped the microphone. The thunk-thunk-thunk echoed. “Thank you all for coming out back here.” Her eyes scanned the crowd and stopped directly on him. “Gordon, stay right there.”
Her voice had strength, and Gordon froze. He’d managed to worm his way to within three feet of the stage. He was close enough to storm the stage if any of the scenarios flashing through his brain ended in tragedy.
“Ladies and gentleman,” said Helen, “I apologize for interrupting this wonderful party for the library. But I must confess.” She was using her fundraising voice. She hadn’t sounded like that in near history. It commanded attention.
Members of the crowd looked at one another in confusion. Gordon scanned them quickly, then returned his attention to his mother. When she wasn’t looking at him, he inched closer. What would she confess? Was this what was causing her attacks? He worried the strain of whatever she was trying to do would kill her.
“Many years ago, my family and I left town quite abruptly after the death of my husband. You were lead to believe he had a heart attack, and it was too painful for me to stay here.” Many in the crowd were too young to remember when Helen had been at Carterville’s heart, but those who did shifted awkwardly. She paused and rewrapped her hands around the microphone. “As awful as it sounds, I wish it were the case, and that my despicable actions had not led him to take his own life.”
Several guests gasped. A few murmured to each other and shrugged their shoulders.
Gordon stumbled as he slipped around another guest to get closer to the stage. He grabbed the man’s shoulders to steady himself and apologized. What could she mean by her despicable actions? His father had bankrupted the family.
“It is so lovely of you all to honor me by creating this endowment fund in my name, but…” She paused as if gathering fortitude, and Gordon wished he knew what was coming next. He was still confused by her anger at having the fund named after her. She’d worked so hard for the library.
“When the library was first built, I was the chairman of the fundraising committee. When donations were not accumulating as quickly as I’d hoped, I used less than honorable means to procure them. No.” She shook her head. “That sounds too nice. I blackmailed people—the fine, upstanding people of this community—to give money to the library, or I would reveal their secrets.”
The audience stared in silence. The stage swirled before Gordon’s eyes for a moment. “Did she say blackmail?” he murmured to a woman near him. She confirmed what his doubting ears had heard. Gordon wondered if she, instead of his father, had been behind the emptying of their bank accounts and the mortgaging of the Lilac Bower.
“No one’s skeletons were as dark as my own,” Helen continued. “I’m terribly sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused to so many families here. You may think I’ve confessed this to ease my conscience and that is partially correct. I’ve carried this guilt for fifty years and need to ask your forgiveness before my years are up.”
She swayed behind the microphone. Elvis dashed across the stage to catch her, his cape flapping behind him. He swooped down on one knee and slid under her, cradling her before she collapsed on the plywood platform. The mike fell from her hand, sending screeches through the amplifiers.
Gordon scrambled onto the stage. Helen’s eyes flickered as her head and shoulders rested against Elvis’s knee. “Am I dead?” she whispered, sounding much weaker than she had moments ago.
“No, but you about killed me.” Gordon knelt down beside her. Was he going to lose her now? Despite what she’d confessed, she was still his mother and he still loved her. He reached for her wrist to check her pulse, knowing it would be difficult to feel hers when his own pounded in his ears.
“Then what is Elvis doing at the Lilac Bower?” Her gaze jumped from Elvis to Gordon. “I did always think I’d faint if I saw Elvis.”
Minnie arrived on the stage, followed closely by Edith. Minnie placed her hand on Gordon’s shoulder. He closed his eyes in relief. It felt so good to know he wasn’t alone.
“Should we call an ambulance?” Minnie asked.
Gordon touched her hand and shook his head. They needed to find Marie.
“Do you remember who I am?” Gordon asked, turning back to his mother. “You weren’t speaking sense earlier.”
Helen blinked. “About the blackmail? It’s all true, every word and every penny. I held the dirt over everyone’s heads.”
What she said couldn’t possibly be true. Dad had zeroed out all their accounts. If she had been coercing money from everyone, why had their own accounts been empty?
She reached up and patted Gordon’s cheek. “I never thought it would backfire. I didn’t realize what your father was doing to keep up with the donations I’d pledged. When Bernard learned how I was getting everyone to write checks, he found out how much everyone had donated and repaid them until we went bankrupt. When he couldn’t cover my sins any longer, he…” She shook her head, then clutched at her arm for her handbag, which had miraculously stayed looped around her arm during the kerfuffle. “Where’s Marie?”
“She brought you here?” Gordon thundered. He turned to scan the crowd. Marie had always taken care of his mother’s best interests, whether his mother liked it or not. She would never have agreed to bring her all the way here.
“I told her I was driving if she wouldn’t.” Helen struggled to sit up. Elvis supported her back, and between him and Gordon, they restored her to her feet. “She didn’t believe me until I backed into the fire hyd
rant trying to pull away. It has been a while since I’ve driven.”
Since Gordon couldn’t remember his mother ever driving, and she didn’t have a license, he would have to agree. “Where is she? She has your medications.”
“She dropped me off and went to park the car. There wasn’t an open spot for five blocks. This is quite a soiree. I hope people don’t think I’m dressed up as an old lady.”
Marie rushed up onto the stage. “There you are! What have you been up to?”
“I’m fine. I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.” She brushed off her tweed skirt, tucked her purse tightly in the crook of her arm, and slid a look up at Elvis. “This nice gentleman has been taking care of me.”
“Mother, you almost passed out on the stage.”
Marie extracted a pill bottle from her pocket and uncapped it, shaking a tiny pill into her palm. His mother took the pill and popped it in her mouth while Marie checked her vitals. “One of her spells. Probably too much excitement. She should rest for a while.”
Too much excitement for sure. If Marie had any idea what his mother had confessed in front of all of Carterville, they’d probably be picking Marie up off the grass. He still didn’t believe it himself. He should ask Elmer about wormholes and alternate universes because he was sure he’d ended up in one. All these years he’d blamed his father for their circumstances, when it had been his mother who’d caused them. Nothing was turning out the way he’d believed it to be. It scared him to think what would happen next.
He and Minnie ushered Helen inside and up to Gordon’s room. Once she was settled, he pulled Marie aside and asked her about the blackmail.
“She told me, too.” Marie pulled the edges of her cardigan together. “That your father killed himself because he couldn’t live with someone as awful as she was.”
Gordon knew then that it had to be true. His father had doted on his mother, fulfilling her every wish—even to the point of paying for her sins. When he’d found out she wasn’t who he thought, it had killed him. Gordon gripped the railing to keep from staggering on the stairs. No wonder his mother was so agitated. She’d borne the guilt for fifty years.
Minnie and Edith brought up some appetizers and drinks and helped Marie arrange what Helen needed. “Thanks for your help,” Gordon said as Minnie inched toward the door. He knew things would have been different between them if they hadn’t been half a world apart. Minnie still stood by him, despite the fact her parents had likely been victims of his mother’s scheme. Learning who Minnie truly was wouldn’t kill him; it made him love her more.
* * *
“Let me know if you need anything else.” Minnie hesitated, unsure whether to say “you” or “she.” Was she actually feeling benevolent toward Gordon? She decided yes. He’d been through enough tonight. Everything she’d done had been for him, not for his mother.
“Actually, I would like to speak with you and Gordon for a moment,” Helen said, fiddling with the clasp on her purse. “You should probably sit.”
“It can wait until after you’ve rested.” Minnie opened the door. What did Helen Crocker Anderson want to say now? Another plea to buy the Bower? Had Gordon sought to use her legendary persuasive powers to convince Minnie? Helen could sell sand to a sheik. Well, maybe not. She’d blackmail him first.
“No, it can’t. I don’t want to spend another minute with this on my chest.” Her voice had regained its earlier strength.
Gordon yanked a chair over to his mother’s bedside, his face pale and haggard. No, he hadn’t planned any of this. Her presence and confession had been as much of a shock to him as everyone else. Minnie still wavered between the chair and the door. Hadn’t enough long-buried history been revealed today? She wasn’t sure she was ready for another spin on the emotional roller coaster.
Helen reached into her purse and withdrew a packet of folded, light blue paper, the edges marked with red and blue ticking. Her hand shook and she clasped the packet in both hands. “Here is another regret and another plea for forgiveness.”
Minnie saw the handwriting on the address block and gasped. “My letters!” She stumbled over to the bed, staring in disbelief at the stack. The tissue-thin paper showed the marks of world travel—stamps, stains, and wrinkles—but not one of the envelopes showed the torn edge of being read.
Gordon choked. “You had her letters? You kept them from me?”
Helen had kept the letters from Gordon? Then he’d never known of her struggles. His shock this afternoon had been genuine. Minnie swung her hand behind her to find a chair and sank into it. Everything she had forced herself to believe for fifty years had been dead wrong.
Helen’s eyes drifted closed and she clutched the stack tightly. She opened her eyes again and met Minnie’s gaze. Minnie wasn’t sure she could remove the look of horror branded on her face.
Helen bit her lower lip. “After Gordon received your first letter, I could see how much it tore him up. You meant so much to him, and you were so far away.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “After the bankruptcy, I needed Gordon and couldn’t have him running off to you, so I stole your letters from the mailbox. I wanted him to believe you’d left him. Unfortunately, I succeeded.”
“How could you?” Gordon asked, more in shock than anger. “You were so sick…”
“Yes, Gordon, I was. Mentally more than physically. Maybe I still am. I did some awful things to you.” Her gaze swept to Minnie. “And to you, by what I did to Gordon.”
Minnie expected she would cry in a situation like this—to learn someone had done such horrible things—but no tears came. She felt more like a fish who’d jumped out of the water and landed on the dock, flopping around in a foreign, inhospitable environment.
“That’s not all,” Helen said. “I made you marry Ann too.”
“You burned down her apartment?”
“No. But I suggested the marriage to her as a way to solve her housing situation. She was always sweet on you, so it sounded like a good idea to her.”
Minnie barely heard this last confession. She’d heard too much today. Helen’s confessions threw her own trespasses in her face. She had accused Gordon over and over of abandoning her. She had derided him with every foul name she’d squeezed out of the dictionary. And he was innocent. It hadn’t been his fault. She wished she could unsay every horrible thing she’d thrown in his general direction over the years.
Helen met her gaze, and tears filled both their eyes. Minnie willed hers away. She wasn’t going to cry out of self-pity.
Helen held the letters out, wavering between whom to hand them to. Minnie took them and pulled the ring from her pocket. She placed it on top of the packet and gave the whole thing to Gordon. “I don’t deserve this.” She stood and wiped her hands on her pants. She couldn’t escape the room fast enough. “I should check on Mark and the leak. Please let me know if you need anything.”
19
Minnie disappeared into the hallway. She rubbed her eyes with her fur-encased wrist and sneezed. She’d lost him all over again. So many times over the last weeks they’d been close to finding each other again, but one thing had always held her back. And now she’d learned it wasn’t even his fault.
She couldn’t ask for forgiveness for the way she’d treated him. It was all undeserved on his part. She was the one who had abandoned him.
Sounds of the party drifted up the stairs. She rolled her shoulders back and stiffened her spine. As much as she wanted to retreat to someplace quiet and wallow in her despair, she couldn’t. She had a benefit to host. Her pity party would have to wait.
The weights on her shoulders compounded with each step down the stairs: the ghost hunters, the leak, the ring, the party. Helen’s confession. The letters. And Gordon. She sighed as she hit the landing.
Gordon.
Her nerves felt as if they’d been rolled over by a bulldozer, dipped in bleach, and swirled around in a food processor for good measure. By the last few steps, she’d pasted a smile on h
er face as she began to greet the milling guests. Edith grabbed her arm before the fake grin cracked.
“Can you believe all this? I thought Gordon’s mom was dead. No wonder my parents were so tight-lipped about her.” She tapped her lip. “I wonder what dirt she had on them.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “She probably caught Dad mowing the lawn on Sunday or something.”
Minnie laughed. Edith might be crazy, but she was quite often exactly what Minnie needed. From what she remembered of Edith’s parents, powering up the lawnmower on Sunday would have been the paramount of sacrilege.
Minnie sagged into her.
“You all right?” Edith asked.
“Never been worse.”
Edith wrapped her arm around Minnie’s shoulder and squeezed. “If you’ve got a tarp…” She slid a sidelong glance at Minnie. “But that’s all changed, hasn’t it? Why don’t you go find a place out back and enjoy Elvis’s last songs? I can take care of this.”
Minnie’s mind was still reeling. “It’s been quite a night.”
“I hope Gordon’s bank account is as deep as he claims. He’s going to have to pony up some serious cash at the end of the evening.” Edith pointed to the table where people could make donations in various forms. It had taken some quick work and a few pulled strings—something they could thank Gordon for—but they could accept credit cards as well. The line twisted through the dining room and down the hall.
Minnie nodded as she watched checks being torn from books and accounted. “Maybe he won’t have enough left to buy the Bower.”
“Speak of the devil.” Edith glanced over her shoulder.
Minnie followed her gaze and saw Gordon descending the stairs. She hadn’t moved fast enough.
Edith pursed her lips. “You should have painted a white skeleton on your outfit. You can’t pull off the Beat poet look. Well, off to check on Elvis.” She fluffed her hair and slipped through the crowd.
“How’s your mother?” Minnie asked, trying to ignore the plethora of emotions threatening to turn her knees into jelly, her eyes into sprinklers, and her heart into glass shards.
Hauntings of the Heart Page 20
