by Renee Simons
He took her uninjured hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. "After that you may not care."
"If this … thing … weren't hanging over our heads, how would you feel about a future for us?"
He reached up and pulled her head down for a warm, gentle kiss. "There's more than just 'this thing' to consider."
"Meaning?"
"I just called home. The mining engineer's report came in. Mine's a no-go."
"Why?"
"There isn't enough ore left to make startup worthwhile. And there's the problem of the cyanide. When the mining operation was coming to an end, the operators used cyanide to extract whatever gold was left in the tailings, which were then dumped back into the mine. The cost of cleanup would be prohibitive."
"Is there any danger to the house? More importantly, to anyone living there?"
"Why would you ask that?"
"I found a tunnel leading from the mine to The Mansion’s basement. There's nothing separating them but two wooden doors and maybe a mile’s distance."
He cocked his head back again, causing their glances to meet. "And you discovered this when?"
"During one of my explorations.”
“You were supposed to stay out of there.”
“I figured if the house is mine, so is the tunnel.”
He grimaced. “Convenient rationalization.”
“I found a small handcar and train tracks. Maybe that's how your father and my grandmother found a way to meet — assuming they didn't want anyone to know."
"A pretty good assumption. I'm sure my father wouldn't have been considered prime marriage material for Lucinda."
"I don't think she felt that way, not until her heart was broken, that is."
"If they'd stayed together you and I would be different people."
"Maybe I’d be your sister...."
"Or a cousin. That wouldn't be too bad."
"A first would be."
"You're right," he said with a smile. "I'm sorry for them, but glad for us."
"Me, too. So, what do you think about the cyanide and the house?"
"I don't know querida. We'll have to talk to some mining people when we get back."
"Or hazardous materials experts."
"Whatever it takes," he said.
She sighed. "I hate waiting for answers."
"Seems like waiting is all you've done since you got to Blue Sky. I'm sorry for my part in that."
"I'm hoping that eventually it will all be worthwhile."
"If you get to keep your house?"
She smiled. “The house is only a small part of it.”
“I remember when it was the biggest part.”
“A lot has changed since then.”
He reached up and lightly touched her cheek. “I hope you get everything you want. Including the house.”
Her sigh reflected her mind set. “What happens if it's sitting on a hazardous waste site?"
"Could be a lose-lose situation for us. We don't get our mine and you have to give up the house." He took her hand and placed a kiss on the palm. "We'll finally be on the same side."
* * *
Some time during the night, Luc must have switched rooms. Callie knew this because she was tucked into his bed and he was nowhere to be seen when she awoke. For a moment or two she wasn’t sure what had roused her, but then the commotion coming from the other side of the door leading to her room sent her speeding out of bed.
Cautiously opening the door and looking inside, she was astonished to see Luc straddling a bulky man, grinding his face into the carpet and wrenching the man’s hands behind his back as the captive growled and struggled to free himself.
“Luc?” Callie whispered.
He looked up. “Get my cuffs. Then call 911.” He jerked his head to the right, directing her to the heavy gun belt, minus its weapon, that straddled the back of an armchair.
By the time the man was bound and Callie went to the phone, two uniformed officers stood in the open doorway to the room.
“Hey, Moreno, we got a call about a disturbance. You doin’ business outside your jurisdiction?”
Luc turned his head. “Hola, chico. Just helping to keep the scum off your streets.”
“Que pasa, amigo?” The two officers entered the room and crouched beside Luc and his captive. The older of the two, Chico by name, had asked the question. The younger officer took out a small notepad and pen.
“This gentleman,” Luc answered, “is Charlie Dunn. He is currently under investigation for a possible parole violation as well as for an attempt against the life of Ms. Patterson, over there. Near as I can figure, he followed us from home with the thought of finishing what he failed to do only a few days ago.”
“How come you figure that, compadre?”
“Well, this room is registered to Ms. Patterson. We traded rooms last night, which he wouldn’t have known, and he attempted to attack me with that object lying beside the bed. I managed to subdue him before he did too much damage.”
Chico pointed to a bruise on Luc’s temple. “He got in a lick or two, I see.”
Luc smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, well, I turned away and the blow glanced off my head.”
“Your hard head, you mean.” The officers examined a tire iron. “We’ll bag this thing and get it typed for blood and prints. You want to turn him over to us?”
“For the moment. We have an appointment in about an hour. We’ll be over to see you after we’re finished with our business.”
“We’ll book him for assault and hold him until you come in and let us know what you want to do.”
“Thanks, Sergeant Rivera.” Luc turned to Callie. “Let’s get ourselves over to the university.”
When Luc left for his appointment with Dr. Gerrold, Callie went to the library. She searched the microfiche files and then the stacks for a history of the region. Each of the four books she found mentioned Francisco Moreno and his stewardship of the Valley of Gold, but only one went into detail that paralleled Luc’s narration at the fiesta.
To her delight the article referred to Doña Constanza as Francisco’s wife and the matriarch of the Moreno family. They had died within weeks of each other, Constanza first, and then by everyone’s guess at the time, Francisco. A guess because, as Luc had said, the patriarch had gone off to die alone, leaving his burial place a mystery.
“Not anymore,” Callie whispered. Oh, Luc, she thought, how will you receive this news? And will your life be better for it? She sighed. “I hope so.”
And what about her own life? She’d planned it all so well after Gram had died. She would move to Blue Sky and set about restoring The Mansion and making it self-supporting. Once that had been accomplished, she could make a new start somewhere else, with her trust money available to ease the way.
Now it looked as if none of it would happen. If her suspicions were correct, the house sat on or close to a huge hazardous waste site. Even if the experts were to declare it habitable, she would never have a moment’s peace of mind. Having gotten more than one whiff of the gaseous air in the deepest part of the tunnel, she could never live in the house or ask anyone else to chance it. Unfortunately, if she couldn’t live there for the required period of time, the money and her new beginning would be denied her.
She gazed idly around the room and then down at the portrait of Don Francisco that reminded her so much of Luc’s father. She wondered how long “Señor Miner” had worked to create his wonderland below ground and what it had taken for his descendants to hold on to their legacy.
Generations of Morenos had met many challenges. Her own ancestors had started their lives over more than once. Could she do any less? She would halt the restoration, come to a settlement with J.D. and Nick and sell off the furnishings she’d worked so hard to recover. The proceeds would provide a small nest egg for the next phase of her life, whatever or wherever that might be.
So where was Luc in all this? Her heart sank. She would have to leave the valley. He never would
.
Chapter Twelve
Callie left the library and walked back to the building where she’d left Luc. He’d just cleared the door and met her at the bottom of the steps.
“How did you make out?” she asked.
“Better than expected.”
“I sense a “but” in there somewhere.”
“Do you want the long or the short version.”
They’d been walking side by side. Now Callie stopped him with a hand on his arm. He turned to her.
“I want to know it all.”
“Okay. Let’s keep on walking. The doc says it’s a condition called central serous retinopathy, but CSR is easier to remember and to say. Near as I can tell, fluid builds up behind the retina causing distortion of vision and a detachment if it goes on too long.”
“What about treatment?”
“Basically, there is none — sometimes doctors will prescribe beta-blockers, but they don’t always help. Laser surgery has its good and bad points, but this eye guy doesn’t think what I’ve got right now warrants surgery. He thinks it probably will go as suddenly and mysteriously as it came, although there’s no way to predict the future. If I’m lucky, the fluid will be reabsorbed without permanent damage.”
“Once the CSR goes away, will it be over for good?”
“We don’t know. Sometimes it recurs, sometimes not.”
“So you’re stuck with more questions than answers.”
“Es verdad, although it helps to have a label to pin on what’s been happening.”
“Well, I have something to show you when we get home that may make your situation easier to handle.”
“And that is...?”
“Uh uh, not till we get back.”
A slow grin warmed his features. “So mysterious, querida.”
“Only for a short while.”
“Well, then,” he said. “Let’s get over to the police station and settle Charlie Gunn’s hash.”
When they entered the adobe-style building, they were directed to an interview room where they found Sergeant Rivera, Charlie, Mercedes and a dark-suited man Callie guessed was Charlie’s lawyer. The two lawmen nodded to each other as Callie and Luc took their seats.
Charlie’s arms were folded across his chest. He stared down at the table top with a blank expression. Callie glanced at Mercedes expecting the woman’s usually militant attitude. She saw a trace in her clenched jaw, but a softness around her eyes and a hint of tears betrayed her worry. A mother is a mother, she thought, no matter how rotten the offspring. Callie forced herself to tamp down a twinge of sympathy.
The sergeant glanced around the table and then fixed his gaze on Callie and Luc. “We’ve questioned Mr. Gunn since his apprehension and arrest. Under advice of counsel he has confessed to three acts of vandalism and the attacks on both of you. You certainly have cause to press charges. I would if I were in your shoes. But Mr. Gunn’s mother and attorney have a request to make.” Rivera rose and walked toward the door. “I’ll leave you all alone to talk. See you in a few.”
As the door closed behind him, Mercedes leaned forward in her seat and fixed her gaze on Callie. “You and I started out badly and because of that, a series of events has occurred that put you in the gravest of dangers. For that I’m truly sorry.” She laid on hand on Charlie’s arm. “My son mistook my anger and frustration as a mandate to drive you away at any cost. And that is only because he loves me and would do anything for me. He thought getting you to leave was what I wanted.”
“Isn’t it?” Callie asked.
“Perhaps … yes … but I never wanted harm to come to you. My God, child, don’t you know? Didn’t your grandmother tell you who I am?”
“She never mentioned you.”
“I’m not surprised.” Mercedes leaned back. “Well, Lucinda and I were cousins. So that makes the two of us family.”
“And Charlie....”
“Yes, Charles, as well.”
“Not by blood,” Charlie muttered.
Mercedes touched his arm again as if to calm him. “As good as, Son.”
Callie looked from one to the other, but Luc asked the question.
“What are you two talking about?”
“I lost a child when I was very young. Later on, I adopted Charles when I found out that he needed a home. He is my son in every way except blood. It has never mattered to either of us. Perhaps the bond was made stronger by our mutual need.”
“If you knew we were related, why did you ask Charlie to harass me?”
“She didn’t know what I was doing.”
“What’s the request, Mercedes?”
Luc’s voice had gone gentle, as if he’d been moved by the woman’s brief recital. Callie felt herself softening toward the pair and hated her weakness.
“You have every right to exact revenge for what we’ve done,” Mercedes said, “but I’m hoping you’ll find it in your heart to show forgiveness. Don’t press charges.”
“Whoa,” Luc drawled. “Your son nearly killed Callie. There’s a price to pay for that.”
Mercedes turned to Callie. “How high?”
“I’ll give you an answer in return for one from you.”
The older woman nodded and sat back in her chair again.
“Why do you want me to abandon The Mansion?”
In the long silence that followed, something nagged at Callie, something in the recesses of her memory that she couldn’t quite reach. Just as she pulled it forward, Mercedes began to speak.
“There is a secret buried within The Mansion walls.”
Callie felt Luc’s hand on her thigh, and while the contact sent a pleasant flow of warmth to the spot, she knew his motive had nothing to do with seduction.
“A secret wrapped in a native blanket?” he asked.
“It was, in fact, a serape given to me by your mother.”
“There was a child,” Callie whispered, “whose existence sent my grandmother away.”
“Stillborn.”
In that moment, all the woman’s years came crashing down on her. Callie swore she could almost feel their burden stripping the starch from Mercedes’ attitude, leaving a tired old woman with all the fight leeched out of her. About to extend her condolences, Callie glimpsed Charlie’s hand close protectively around his mother’s. The movement transformed the pair of enemies into sad figures trying to make the best of a bad break. A lot of bad breaks.
“But why the house,” Callie asked. “Why not out in the desert?” She glared at Charlie. “Or down a mine shaft?”
He squirmed in his seat but said nothing.
Mercedes answered. “I went a little crazy, I guess. The house was empty. I was hurt and angry and feeling guilty and I hated your family. It seemed to satisfy my need for revenge.”
“Against whom? Lucinda? You stole her sweetheart.”
“Nonsense.” Mercedes’ tone had regained its customary steel. “Her father — my own uncle — took advantage of me and then refused to help when I found myself carrying his child.”
Callie took some time to absorb the shocking information and to wonder if she could believe the woman’s accusation. “Why did Lucinda think that Fernando Moreno had fathered your child?”
“That’s what I wanted her to think.”
“But if you’d told her the truth, she would have helped you. You wouldn’t have had to face the tragic situation alone.”
“If she hadn’t decided Fernando was the great love of her life, there would have been no tragedy to face.”
“You’d better explain that. I’ve begun reading her diaries and that’s not the impression I get.”
Once again, Luc’s hand beneath the table kept her from going further. Did he know something she didn’t?
“Then let me clarify those impressions for you.”
Callie marveled at the woman’s return to the steely cold demeanor she’d come to associate with her.
“I was in love with Fernando. Beauty that she was, once Lucinda
set her cap for him, there was no hope for me. In my heartbroken state I went to her father – your great-grandfather – for advice. Under the guise of giving me comfort, he seduced me and then abandoned me to my fate. When he left I made sure Lucinda went with him.
“I was able to hide my pregnancy but when the child was delivered in a lifeless state, I would have laid it at his father’s doorstep except that he was already gone. So I buried the remains in the wall of the room where he’d been conceived.” She sighed. “When you came here to restore the place, I was afraid my secret would be discovered during renovation.”
“I told her we should burn the place down,” Charlie said.
“Why didn’t you?”
Mercedes shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“So instead, you tried to scare me away.” Mercedes nodded. “And it got out of hand.” She nodded again. “And here we are.”
“Yes, here we are. At your mercy.”
“Don’t beg,” Charlie said in a tone more growl than polite conversation.
“It’s little enough to do.”
Callie wondered if anyone would have taken the time or gone to the trouble of tracing the remains and if they could have been traced back to Mercedes after so many years. Probably neither, she thought.
Callie looked at Luc. “This has to stop. Here and now.” She went to the door and stood aside as Sergeant Rivera entered.
“So,” the lawman said, “what’s the deal?”
“No deal,” Callie replied. “I’m not pressing charges.”
“This is a big mistake,” Luc said. “You could have died and he was responsible. You can’t let him off the hook.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Are you sure this is what you want,” he asked.
“I’m sure.”
Rivera addressed Charlie’s lawyer, who’d been silent throughout the meeting. “He’s still facing time for parole violation. That’s not going away.”
“We won’t fight the charge.”
Rivera turned to Luc. “What about the attempt against you?”
For once, Charlie had the grace to look at his accuser.
