“Al, I’m not worried about some bees.”
The door behind them opened and Greg Lyons breezed into the room as if it were the middle of the day and not two thirty in the morning. He set his briefcase down. “I hope you have a very good reason for getting me out of bed in the middle of the night,” he said to Charlie.
“I’m releasing Dr. Jenkins,” Charlie said.
Linnet cried out in relief. Al sunk down in the chair. Something inside of her broke for him, and it was more than just compassion. She knew all about poor decisions, mistakes, how they could cost you the most important people in your life. “Mr. Lyons,” she said. “I’d like for you to represent Al in this matter.”
Mr. Lyons looked toward the ceiling as if he were asking some higher power how he’d gotten himself tangled up in this mess. Then he ran his hand down his face. “Okay, let me get this straight,” he said to Charlie. “You’re releasing Dr. Jenkins, and charging this man, Al, for the same crime?”
“That’s right,” Charlie said.
“It was an accident,” Al said.
“Don’t say another word,” Mr. Lyons warned, and then he said to Charlie, “I’d like to speak with my client alone.”
Charlie stood and motioned for Linnet to follow. “Let’s go spring the doc.”
* * *
Linnet pulled into the driveway of The Snow Goose. She turned toward Pop. He’d remained quiet ever since leaving the police station. “We’re home,” she said.
“Yes,” he said, and slowly got out of the car.
She walked alongside him through the wet grass to the stone path that led to the guesthouse. The rain had stopped. The storm had ended. They took their time, picking their way through the shadows. His steps were stiff and labored. In a few hours, the sun would be coming up.
She opened the front door and flipped on the light. Magazines and papers were strewn about the place. The cushion on his favorite chair was askew. The drawer on the end table had been left open. Signs the police had been rummaging through his things. She’d meant to straighten up after they’d left, but so much had happened between then and now that she’d forgotten.
He walked straight through the bedroom and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
While she waited, she picked up magazines and journals, pushed in opened drawers, fluffed the cushion on his favorite chair, and searched his bedroom for his slippers. They were under the bed, and she picked them up and put them where he’d find them in the morning. Next, she laid out his pajamas.
When he came out of the bathroom, she said, “I’ll let you get dressed,” and stepped out of the room. She was tired. Her neck and back were stiff. But she was so relieved Pop was home, safe inside the guesthouse. She waited until she heard the familiar squeak of the box spring before she went back in to turn out the light. She bent to pull the string on the lamp on the nightstand. He touched her arm and stopped her from turning it off. His eyelids were heavy with sleep.
“Don’t be hard on Charlie,” he said.
“For arresting you?”
“Yes. He did the best he could with what he had. It’s not like the police department is used to these kinds of things, and for that we should be thankful.”
She frowned. “I imagine he’ll retire after this.”
“I imagine so.”
“Get some sleep,” she said, and was about to turn off the light when he stopped her a second time.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to help Al.”
“What are saying? You knew he was responsible this whole time?”
“I know that everyone makes mistakes, but it doesn’t make them a bad person.”
She pulled in a slow breath. “You’re not talking about Al, are you?”No, of course he wasn’t. He was talking about her, about the three of them, wanting love so desperately from a woman who had been incapable of loving them back.
“If I could,” he said, “I’d do things differently.”
She moved a lock of white hair from his forehead. “Me, too, Pop.” Me, too.
“And Al,” he said.
“Al’s going to be okay. He’ll get through this. He has a very good lawyer.”
“Mmm,” he said, and closed his eyes.
She removed his spectacles and set them on the nightstand. Then she kissed his forehead and turned out the light. Her heart was so full of love for this silly old man. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered, knowing he may not remember their conversation in the morning, knowing it didn’t matter because she would.
* * *
Linnet walked back to the main house. The dark clouds had been replaced by the gray haze of morning. She found Myna sitting at the kitchen table. She’d texted her and Ian earlier explaining that Al had been arrested for Professor Coyle’s murder, and she was bringing Pop home.
“How is he?” Myna asked about Pop.
“He’s sleeping in his own bed, so I’d say he’s pretty good.”
“No, I mean, how is he?”
“Oh.” She took a minute to think while she put a pot of coffee on. She smoothed her hair, the ends frizzy from the dampness in the air. Myna’s hair was bigger than ever, the curls springing in every direction as if she’d had a wild night. Linnet supposed in ways she had. “Right now, I can manage him. Tomorrow? A week from now, a month, I don’t know. I’m taking it one day at a time.”
“Will you let me know when it does get bad? If it gets bad? Will you keep me updated on how he’s doing?”
“Sure.” She looked at the floor, noticing the muddy puddle of water under the chair, the towels, where Al had sat a few hours ago. Her week with Myna was coming to an end. An ache swarmed her chest at the thought of her sister leaving.
“So,” she said. “Are you going to tell me what Jake’s doing here?”
“Rodney called me. I guess he figured we were friends since he saw us with Jake earlier. Anyway, Jake got drunk and stirred up some trouble. You saw his face. Rodney asked me to pick up Jake and get him out of there.”
“And you thought it was a good idea to bring him here?”
“It didn’t feel right taking him someplace else. Not after everything. I couldn’t just dump him off somewhere.”
“I can’t believe he agreed to it.”
“Well, he didn’t really have a choice,” Myna said, and smiled.
They sat in silence after that, the bond between them twisted and bent, but perhaps not broken, not completely anyway. And somewhere in the quiet, the first rays of sunshine streamed through the garden window, dancing on the floor at their feet. As the light spread across the wooden boards, Linnet felt something opening inside her chest, something that felt an awful lot like hope. It was distant, but it was there.
They continued sitting across from each other quietly. Linnet’s thoughts turned to Ian and Hank. They would be waking up soon. She couldn’t wait to tell Hank the good news. Pop was home, sleeping in the guesthouse. He’d be so relieved. She’d cook breakfast, and the day would start as though it were any other day, her family together again. Her mind was already working out how to get people back into the B&B, how to get her business back on track.
She was thinking about the snow geese when Jake walked into the kitchen. His clothes were rumpled as though he’d slept in them, and she guessed he probably had. He looked like shit. The bruise under his eye had morphed into something black and purple and ugly.
Linnet stood. Jake stepped back and raised his arms as though he were afraid she was going to strike him.
“Sit,” she said.
“I called a cab,” he said. “I’ll just wait outside.” He walked out the side door with the duffel bag and computer bag hanging off his shoulder.
Linnet made a fresh pot of coffee. At the sink, she looked out the garden window. The robins were busy searching for worms. The squirrels raced up and down the trees. Branches were scattered across the lawn, the result of the thunderstorm. Al wouldn’t be coming to clean up the yard, and the th
ought made her sad, but she had no doubt Ian and Hank would pitch in with outside chores until she found a new groundskeeper.
Behind her, Myna said, “Maybe I should go talk to Jake.”
Linnet shook her head. When the coffee finished brewing, she poured three cups. “I’ll go.” She brought one to Jake. He looked at her, surprised.
She shrugged. “It’s the least I can do,” she said.
“The very least.” He was about to say something more, but he was interrupted by the sound of honking.
“The snow geese,” Linnet said. “I think they’re on the dam.”
Myna burst outside.
Jake put the coffee down, and the three of them raced through the yard, slipping on the wet grass, weaving their way through the path in the woods, only stopping when they reached the dock. There on the water were the geese—two dozen or more. The flock was landing, breaking to rest before heading farther north, foraging the vegetation that had been thinned by the result of the community’s dredging efforts.
Linnet reached for Myna and hugged her tight, joy reaching to the far corners of her heart and beyond. They hugged and laughed as more snow geese arrived, the sound of their wings like a thousand thunderclaps, the honking filling every space of silence.
When most of the flock had settled down, Linnet stepped onto the dock. Several kilometers away, the dredging equipment sat silent. It looked a lot like a piece of farm equipment, half in and half out of the water. There was still work to be done, but as far as Linnet could tell, the fish had been cleaned up. The sun peaked over the mountain. Its warm rays touched her face.
Myna came to stand next to her. Jake lingered somewhere off to their side.
“Look.” Myna pointed to the sky. “An eagle.”
The geese took flight, a hundred or more flapping wings, the sound like the thunder of beating drums, their honking like a chorus, warning of a predator in their midst. The birds surrounded the sisters and Jake in a blizzard of white. Jake spun around, head tilted toward the sky, an expression of awe on his face. The flock circled back and landed once again for a brief pause of silence, only to rise like a crescendo when the eagle returned.
When the threat disappeared and the geese settled down and the quiet was restored, Linnet said to Jake, “That’s what we call the snow globe effect. People pay money to come here in hopes of experiencing what you just did.”
“I can see why,” Jake said. “That’s amazing.”
“Yes,” Linnet said. “It is.”
A man stepped from the path. “Did someone call for a cab?”
Jake raised his arm. “That would be me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the old black Nokia. He gripped it in his hand, and after some hesitation, he said, “This is yours,” and tossed the phone to Linnet.
Linnet turned it over, gazing at the scratches on the back from where it had skidded across the road. Although it wasn’t easy, and she was having a hard time swallowing, she said to Jake, “Thank you.”
“It doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“No, of course not,” she said.
He nodded at Myna.
The sisters watched him walk away at the same time Ian, Hank, and Pop emerged from the path. They’d heard the honking and had come to see the birds.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Myna was in the guest room packing her bags. She needed to be at the airport to catch her flight in two hours. Her cell phone rang. She grabbed it from the dresser, finding a text from Ben. He’d gotten her message about the snow geese returning to the dam, the news of Pop’s release. She’d known in her heart Pop was innocent. She’d been so sure of it, sure of him her whole life, so certain of the kind of man he was. But she realized even he had faults, made mistakes. There were no guarantees the person you loved wouldn’t come with their own set of flaws and scars. Maybe that was what she hadn’t understood. Loving someone was simply about taking a chance and hoping for the best.
I’m coming home, she texted.
Okay, Ben replied. I’ll be here waiting.
She set the phone down. When she finished putting the last pair of jeans into the suitcase, she zipped it up and set it on the floor. She lifted her chest, feeling a little lighter, freer, now that she’d come to a decision. She wasn’t ready to give Ben the commitment he wanted. She needed more time. But maybe, maybe, one day she’d take that chance on happily ever after.
* * *
Hank was lying on the bed sideways. He was playing a game on the iPad, asking Myna for pointers to help him get to the next level. She wished she would’ve spent more time with him while she was here. It had been a crazy week, but she needed to return to Florida.
“You’ll still Skype me, right?” she asked Hank.
“Duh,” he said, and she smiled.
“Maybe when you do, you can ask your mom to join you?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, I’m heading down.”
“I’ll be there in a minute when this game is over.”
She wheeled her suitcase down the hall and stairs, stopping when she reached the kitchen. Linnet and Ian were standing at the counter. They stopped talking when they saw her with her suitcase. Pop was sitting at the table, the newspaper spread in front of him. She put her hand on his shoulder. He smelled like the outdoors, fresh from the dam where he’d spent the day watching the geese.
“Did you see this?” he asked. “The test results on the fallen geese are inconclusive.” He peered at her over his spectacles. “I stand by my theory. I think it had something to do with the turbulence of that particular thunderstorm that night.”
“I don’t doubt you,” she said, and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll see you soon, Pop. I love you.”
He covered her hand. “I love you, too, Myna-bird.”
“I’ll put your suitcase in the car for you,” Ian said, and hugged her. “Don’t be a stranger,” he said, exchanging a glance with Linnet on his way out.
Linnet leaned against the counter, arms folded, wearing her typical khakis and oxford shirt, her hair in another slick ponytail. “I guess you have to get back to Florida,” she said.
“Classes start again on Monday.” She wanted nothing more than to cross the room and throw herself into Linnet’s arms, tell her she was sorry for the distance between them all these years, tell her she wanted them to be the way they used to be with each other when they were kids, best friends, confidantes. Sisters.
“Okay,” Linnet said. “Have a safe trip, and let us know you arrived safely.”
“I will,” she said, and started walking to the door, thinking maybe they just needed more time, hopeful they’d find their way back to each other in the weeks, months, years ahead.
“Wait,” Linnet said.
Myna stopped, more of that hope rising inside of her as she waited for whatever her sister would say or do next.
Linnet pulled open a drawer and took out the feather. “I remembered this morning it was here. I didn’t mean to take it from you. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She handed it to her.
“Thank you,” Myna said, running her fingers up the soft barbs.
“I’m sorry I went through your things. It was just … I was just…” She paused. “I was mad at you for shutting me out. I know that’s no excuse, but I was hurt, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, wanting to say so much more—how much she was going to miss her, how much she wanted her sister in her life.
“Do me a favor,” Linnet said, and touched the feather in Myna’s hand. “And migrate home once in a while.”
Myna’s words, her love, backed up in her throat. She threw her arms around her sister and finally was able to choke out the words she’d longed to say. “I love you, Linny.”
They embraced as though they were ten years old again and nothing had come between them. They held each other with more love and understanding because of all that had.
Also by Karen Katchur
The Secrets of Lake R
oad
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KAREN KATCHUR lives in eastern Pennsylvania with her husband and two daughters. She is the author of The Secrets of Lake Road. Connect with Karen online at www.karenkatchur.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
The Sisters of Blue Mountain Page 27
