by Geeta Kakade
She created a blog on Mark’s old computer downstairs. The printer in town had carefully copied the family tree to a thumb drive for her so she could put it on her blog.
She’d asked descendants of Phillip and Agnes Cupid to get in touch if they were interested in a family reunion. So far she’d heard by telephone from a couple in Australia, another in Costa Rica. The only single person who’d emailed her was Bridget, a woman who said she wasn’t sure about her relatives but her last name was Cupid.
The other project Christy was working on in her spare time was too close to her heart to discuss with anyone yet.
“Where’s Christy?” asked Mark as he pulled the rowboat to the dock at two fifteen and tied it.
Toby was right there sweeping the dock as he sometimes did.
“She’s at the art show.”
“Art show. What art show?” Was she buying paintings for Cupid Lodge?
“Dunno really,” Toby shrugged. “But she’s been taking boxes to town all week. I gave her a ride to Mina’s Gallery this morning.”
Taking boxes to town all week.
Mark wondered if that meant what he thought it meant. Mina’s Gallery showed and sold the work of local artists.
“May I borrow the truck?”
“Be my guest,” said Toby. “Keys are in it.”
She wasn’t selling Mark’s work was she? He was getting so jumpy these days he didn’t know what to think. One minute he wanted to tell her he loved her. The next he came up with ten reasons not to.
She hadn’t mentioned a word about the sketches and the canvases stacked in the attic and he hadn’t thought to tell her he had placed them there, storing them as carefully as he knew how. He would buy them if she wanted to sell. He had seen one canvas framed and displayed over the fireplace in the living room but she hadn’t said anything about the others.
He pulled up behind the store and walked around the side to the front.
The first thing that caught his eye was the banner in front of the store. Jake Cupid’s Silver Lake…an exhibition of his work.
Exhibition not sale?
Right across from the door was one of the best canvases of Cupid Lodge surrounded by the trees ablaze with fall color.
Christy was in the middle of a group clustered around some sketches on the wall. Getting closer Mark was taken aback. The watercolors were framed. Under the sign above them that said, ‘Silver Lake Sunsets,’ there was another that said, “Not for sale.”
The pencil sketches had a wall of their own. Again all had been laminated and framed.
“As I was saying,” said the man in a suit and tie, standing next to Christy. “We could have a showing of the pictures in South Lake Tahoe and Reno. Your father’s work would fetch a good price.”
“I’m not selling any of it right now,” said Christy firmly. “Give me your card and I’ll contact you about the showings if I’m interested. Excuse me.” Turning away from the man she shook hands with the woman Mina was waiting to introduce her to.
Mark took a quick look around. There were only a third of the pictures Jake had done on display. Wondering what she was doing with the rest he turned to leave. It wasn’t his business and his old friend would have wanted his daughter to do whatever she wanted with his things.
Christy looked around the busy gallery and felt so glad that she had stopped by to talk with Mina two weeks ago when she’d been in town. Off Main Street she had a gallery that did good business with tourists wanting art or craft souvenirs of their visit here. Mina had become very excited when Christy had mentioned Jake’s work and immediately suggested a showing. Mina had known exactly how each picture should be framed and undertaken the framing for a nominal cost.
Christy wanted the world to know that Jake Cupid had been a very talented artist. The Lake Herald had run an article of him in the morning’s paper and she’d spoken to a reporter from Reno who wanted to do an article on the show and her father. Christy’s blog showcasing her father’s work would go live today as well.
So far, she’d agreed to one thing only and that was selling prints of her father’s black and white sketches in Mina’s gallery starting next month. It entailed copyrights and other legal matter but she wanted to have the prints on sale with his name on every one of them.
Christy hadn’t expected the turnout that day in the gallery. She’d seen Mark at the edge of the crowd, hoped he’d talk to her but he’d turned away as if he hadn’t seen her raised hand.
Christy told herself it didn’t matter. She had no use for a man like him who kissed the girls and made them cry. His name ought to be Georgie Porgie not Mark O’Keefe.
As October 31st fell on a school night, Monday, they’d decided to have the party on Sunday the 30th. Everyone had agreed that was a great idea. They wouldn’t have to end the party too soon or worry about the children’s homework. This way the children could go trick or treating in their neighborhoods on the actual day. The day of the party dawned bright and clear. The crisp October chill in the air was filled with excitement. Frank and Toby were carving pumpkins in the garden shed with a sign on the door that said, “No Trespassing.”
Moira was baking cookies shaped like bats and mixing Witches Punch in between pinning cut outs of ghosts on the black curtains. Her finger cookies with the blood red nails were sure to steal the show. Mrs. Kemp and Moira had baked a delicious carrot cake from the old recipe book.
Christy was working on the front door, draping it in a dark cloth which had a skeleton pinned on it. The huge spider’s web everyone had helped make looked perfect dangling from the ceiling against the landing wall. Mark had helped put it up.
The costumes were perfect. Moira really could sew. She had made a Beelzebub costume for Frank out of a pair of red pajamas and a black belt using an old piece of red cloth for a cloak she’d sewn. Christy was going as a witch and Moira as a vampire. Toby would be a headless corpse and Mark if he came would be a pirate. The Kemps were keeping their costume a secret and Miss Bellinger might not come down for the party at all.
Right by an old chair outside the door, Christy had a black plastic trash bag filled with gift bags for the partygoers as they left. Toby had said he would sit on the porch, scare the life out of everyone who came to the door with his headless act and hand out the bags. If any young children came with their parents he promised to wave a pumpkin flag and not frighten them.
As she went through all the last minute things she had to do, Christy’s heart kept telling her tomorrow was Mark’s last day here. The thought of never seeing him again had her feeling as sad as the scarecrow on the lawn.
“You’re cutting it close,” said Phillip tensely.
Agnes said nothing and he looked at her surprised.
She looked worried too.
Phillip decided it was up to him to do something.
Mark tied his scarf around his head and adjusted the patch on his eye once more.
This costume thing was the pits but he didn’t want to disappoint Christy. At midnight tonight the witness was to be moved. Mark’s last shift had ended at midnight yesterday. He had two weeks vacation coming to him and then he would be given his next case. He’d insisted on remaining in the area but if what he planned didn’t work out he would have to find another place to live. In the meantime HQ had informed him he was free to do as he liked for two weeks.
Her mother’s visit had convinced him he had no right tarring Christy with Jennifer or even Ruth Hathaway’s brush. She was different. She was as kind as Jake, cared as little as her father had done for high society and flaunting position. She was loyal to Toby and Moira who worked for her and she was honest as the day was long. She’d written him a check for three thousand five hundred dollars, even though it might mean cutting personal corners for her.
The only reason he hadn’t told her he loved her was Mark was afraid she would turn him down. She had every right to resent his blow hot, blow cold attitude. He only hoped Lady Luck would be out on Halloween Eve and
take his side.
The marriage license almost burned a hole in his pocket. Would Christy agree to be his bride? Henry Brigham had pulled strings to have a justice of the peace here tonight. Luckily for Mark the lawyer had become a friend when he’d seen how Mark had taken care of Jake at the end.
Mark had put his heart into those kisses on the beach. Did she know how much he loved her? Since the night her mother had left he hadn’t trusted himself to be around her and not carry her off to bed and so he’d avoided being alone with her. Would she understand his reasons for what he’d done?
And last of all he wasn’t sure she wanted to be married tonight. Halloween eve.
He was risking a lot but if he could pull it off he would be winning a jackpot.
There was not one person he’d trusted with his secret. Not a single soul.
Taking a deep breath, he wished himself luck.
The party was going well judging by the sounds but Christy couldn’t see Mark. He’d done a perfect job with the music and the smoke. It billowed every time the front door opened and the music sent chills down one’s back.
Mr. and Mrs. Kemp were dressed as skeletons.
Everyone except Miss Bellinger was there. Wasn’t she coming after all? Christy looked up as she saw someone in cowboy costume, a drawn gun in hand coming down the stairs.
“Miss Bellinger?”
“Uh huh,” said her guest out of the corner of her mouth.
Christy stared. The whole costume was perfect. Who would have thought Miss Bellinger would get into the spirit of things? There was a lasso around Miss B’s neck. She wasn’t sure what made her uneasy but it was so out of character for Miss B as they’d all started calling her when she wasn’t around, to get into the spirit of things.
Christy looked at the gun and her eyes narrowed. Was that a real gun? It didn’t look as if it was plastic. It looked really old. Why was Miss B holding it up?
“Where’s O’Keefe?”
“I just saw him go to the door. I think he’s on the phone.”
“I want to show him this gun.”
Miss B headed to the front door and Christy followed. She wanted to hear what Miss B had to say to Mark. A guest stopped her to say nice party at the same time as Christy heard a gunshot.
She ran to the door, followed by the guests.
Miss Bellinger lay on the ground, Toby on top of her, getting the gun away.
O’Keefe also lay on the ground a few feet away not moving.
“Mark!” Christy ran to his side and turned him over. “Mark darling are you all right. Talk to me.”
He opened one eye than another and then said, “I’m fine.”
Anger took the place of concern. “Why are you lying on the ground?”
“Because I didn’t want Bellinger to shoot again.” He turned to her as Toby helped Miss B to her feet keeping a firm hand on her collar. “Who the hell gave you a loaded gun?”
He looked at the Colt in his hands. “This gun is circa 1895. I can’t believe it was stored loaded and it still fired.”
“I found it in the attic with this costume. I never thought it would still be loaded. I wasn’t aiming at anyone when it went off.”
Miss Bellinger looked as if she were about to cry.
“There’s no harm done,” said Mark quickly. “It’s a good thing you were pointing the gun upwards.”
“I wasn’t pointing it upwards,” said Miss B tearfully, “I was pointing it at you but just before it went off someone pushed my arm up, thank God.”
She looked around for whoever had done that. There was no one close to her.
Toby had been on the porch. O’Keefe had been the only one on the drive fixing one of the lanterns. That was really strange.
“Everyone let’s get back to the party, please.” Mark said and the guests went back inside. A couple of them clapped and then everyone joined in while someone yelled Good Show!
They thought it was an act? Christy breathed a huge sigh of relief. That would omit a lot of explanations.
“Did you arrange for that gun to be loaded and take it out of the gun case for that woman to find?” demanded Agnes angrily.
Phillip was grinning for once. “I did but I made sure it had a blank cartridge in it.”
“Why would you put them in danger?” Agnes said. “It’s a good thing it was pointed upwards.”
“I arranged that,” said Phillip. He’d pushed Miss B’s hand up just as the gun went off.
“Honestly! What if Mark had thought he was being attacked and taken out his own gun? His cover would have been blown Pa.”
“His job is done. They moved the witness two weeks ago so the mission was never in jeopardy Ma.”
Agnes wasn’t going to calm down in a hurry “What made you come up with something like that?”
“I thought of the time I came home after a bear had attacked me. I don’t think I ever heard you tell me you loved me so many times. I thought Mark needed to hear Christy say the words so he would get a move on with the proposal.”
Agnes looked at him and her expression softened. “You did good Pa,” she said.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this bringing people together thing,” her husband said smugly. “Now hush up. The best is yet to come.”
Christy turned to follow her guests when she felt Mark’s hand grasp her wrist.
“Hang on a minute. You’re coming with me.” Mark had just gotten off the phone. He led her past the front gate to the water’s edge.
“What is going on?” Christy demanded. “More work that you can’t talk about?”
“Actually I can talk about it to you Christy as I trust you the way I haven’t trusted another human being in a long while. We’ve been keeping a witness who’s going to testify against a terrorist in the safe house next door. I was assigned by a Special Investigative Government Task Force to watch the Feds watching the witness.”
That explained all those hours on the boat.
“I’ve just been told the witness was moved two weeks ago as soon as I was attacked.”
“You weren’t told?” Wasn’t he angry?
“No. HQ didn’t tell me as they wanted anyone watching the house or me to think the witness was still in it.”
It all seemed part of his job. There were so many things she wanted to know but her questions would have to wait.
“I have to get back to the guests,” she said. They had to serve the food.
“Wait a minute”, said Mark holding her arms. “What did you call me back there?”
Christy didn’t say a word and he said, “I think I heard you say darling.”
She didn’t say anything and he continued. “I hope it means you love me as much as I love you.”
Christy stared at him, dumbfounded. “You love me?”
“More than I can say,” said Mark. “And I trust you more than I trust anyone in the world.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged. “I had to keep my mind on the job and I didn’t want your gratitude. I wanted your love.”
For Christy it was time to drop all pretenses. “You have it. You’ve had it since the night you polished all the brass for me.”
“Do you mean it?”
“I do though I wouldn’t admit it to myself for a little longer.”
Suddenly the pirate who’d stolen her heart was on one knee on the sand. “Will you marry me Christy?”
Christy nodded. “Yes please.”
The next instant she was in his arms being kissed as if there was no tomorrow.
Mark lifted his head.
“Tonight,” he said.
“What about tonight?” asked Christy dreamily.
“Will you marry me tonight?”
“I don’t think we can get married tonight,” Christy said. “Not unless we drive to Reno.”
“Not unless there’s a justice of the peace among our guests!” Mark’s voice sounded elated.
“You mean Henry’s frie
nd?”
“Yes. And there’s a special license in my pocket that says we can be married right now.”
“I’m not going to be married dressed as a witch,” said Christy firmly. “You have to give me a few minutes.”
“Take all the time you want,” said Mark. “I’ll change too.”
She was down fifteen minutes later dressed in the beautiful lace gown she’d found in one of the trunks a week ago. She was afraid it would be musty. She had laid all the gowns on the old bed up there for airing till she had time to attend to them. This one fitted her perfectly and smelled of the lilac sachets she had found between the gowns.
In her hand she held the old Bible she had found there with a white leather cover and a single red rose that Toby had cut for her.
They were married on the beach, by the light of the full moon.
‘It was a beautiful ceremony’, Agnes wiped away a tear. ‘Those words they said to each were so meaningful.”
“We have to leave at midnight,” reminded her husband sounding oddly hoarse himself.
“Wasn’t it a beautiful wedding though?” Agnes demanded of the spirit who was on her other side. He had been granted a special pass for tonight.
Jake nodded and smiled proudly. “No father could hope for more for his daughter than a life filled with love.”
EPILOGUE.
MARCH 2012
Christy looked around the attic. She and Mark had made it into their special retreat.
He had made a partition so they still had room for all the trunks and boxes but the rest of the area had two armchairs, a rocking chair, the old bed and writing desk. Mark had the wood stove in the corner cleaned up and working and on the floor was a huge braid rug that Christy had made with scraps of old material in one of the trunks. She’d started learning how to quilt and joined an online quilting bee, saving the best materials in the trunk for the quilt she wanted to make one day soon. There were still a couple of trunks to go through and quite a few boxes but she would do that when she had the time.
