Autumn's Shadow

by Lyn Cote

  Worry dragging at his insides, he got her settled into her seat and then drove them off into the chilly night. He turned the heater on high and hoped the car would warm up quickly.

  Driving the empty county roads to her house, he tried to think of words to say to the silent woman beside him, but he was at a loss. He'd seen Keely take one hit after another this fall, but this one had taken her down. I'm no good at comforting. But I'm here and she needs, no deserves comfort. But no words came.

  Finally he turned up her lane and drove around the stand of pines to her house. Without waiting for an invitation, he went inside with her. Keely stood in the center of the entryway, looking like a lost child.

  Maybe if he got her talking she could release her grief and anger. "The place was insured?"

  She didn't respond.

  "Keely? It was insured, wasn't it?" Speak to me.

  "Yes, but that won't help us now." She looked to him."Don't you see—" her voice cracked—"it's not just losing the building that's the problem. We can't replace what was inside, not in time. The single parents we work with are counting on being able to buy or work for winter clothing for their kids and Christmas presents. After the back-to-school rush, the holiday season is our busiest."

  Her distress washed over him, taking his mood down with hers. "I didn't think about that."

  "We had boxes and boxes of jackets, boots, hats, and mittens to distribute and sell. And Christmas presents. The garage was lined with boxes full of washed and repaired and even donated new toys and books." She began crying."Why did I keep everything there? I should have made sure that donations were kept at different location."

  Of course, she'd tear at herself. Again, why wasn't God helping out this good woman? She doesn't deserve this-where are you at, God? "Keely—" he took her cold hands in his—"you couldn't have guessed that this would happen."

  She looked away but let him keep holding her hands."It's the fire setter, isn't it?"

  "It might or might not be." He gripped her hands, trying to communicate comfort through his touch. "We haven't examined the evidence."

  "I should have expected—"

  "You couldn't have predicted this," he reiterated, rasping out each word, his throat raw from the smoke he'd inhaled.

  "But I'm the one in charge. I should have done something. I can't bear it."

  Words still failed him. Against his better judgment, or any sense at all, he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She trembled against him but didn't resist. He stroked her hair, feeling its silk between his fingers at last, making himself ignore how much he longed to draw her even closer. He hadn't held anyone like this within recent memory, not since Sharon had fallen ill. He pushed this out of his mind and concentrated on the woman here and now. Was she crying for the loss she'd described or for something even more hurtful? Did she suspect that her brother might have set the fire? He couldn't ask that question.

  He'd wait for daybreak to see what the fire told him. And when he got home, he'd check the odometer on Harlan's truck. He'd started checking it each morning and evening to see that Nick didn't abuse the privilege of using the vehicle and to make sure he was only driving as far as should be expected. How many miles between Harlan's and the thrift shop? Had Nick resented having to volunteer at the Family Closet enough to start the fire?

  He'd also check Harlan's gas can again. It had been full the last time he'd checked it, knowing how teens often drove on gas fumes. He didn't even think of asking for a search warrant to check out Grady's trunk and gas tank for evidence. Franklin still hadn't relinquished the bullets.

  No wonder he understood what Keely might be feeling. But he had no comfort to give her. She wept against his shoulder. He pulled her closer and murmured soft words, trying to ignore how much he wanted to kiss her soft lips, so near his own. Finally, he moved away. He wasn't worthy of this woman, just as he hadn't been worthy of Sharon.

  Voices. Burke opened his eyes, then closed them. The bright October sunlight streamed from the windows across from him in Harlan's living room. The sunshine blinded his eyes. When he'd come in last night, he must have fallen asleep on the couch. Sitting down here was the last thing he remembered. He groaned as he recalled how crushed Keely had looked.

  "This seems to be the problem," a quiet voice said from the kitchen. Harlan? What time was it? He glanced at his watch. Nearly 7 > a.m. He'd have to get up soon, but he couldn't move, too drained after dealing with the third fire, the most destructive yet.

  "Why don't we just call a plumber?" Nick's muted voice sounded from the kitchen.

  "I don't need a plumber," Harlan objected. "Who do you think put the modern plumbing in this house?"

  "You?" Nick sounded impressed.

  "Yes, and this is a good opportunity for you to learn some. Now you get down here and watch me. There may come a time when you can't get me or a plumber. And, Nick, it's better to know how to do stuff like this for yourself. Hand me that wrench and I'll show you what to do."

  Burke knew he should get up and offer to help, but an unusual lassitude had him in its clutches. Keely's face came to mind, when she'd been forcing back tears last night. Who had wanted the Family Closet shut down, destroyed? And why?

  Stiff and feeling every lump in the old sofa, Burke thought of Grady as well as his nephew. Nick had been home in bed, hadn't he? The truck's odometer had registered more miles than the previous morning, but he hadn't calculated if there was a major discrepancy. He'd have to talk to Harlan about any errands he and Nick had run. He needed to get up and get to the crime scene. But still he couldn't move.

  "Nick, hand me some of that Teflon tape to seal this connection." There followed a brief exchange about plumbing.

  Burke stared at the ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw white smoke billowing against a night sky, orange gold flames engulfing the back porch where he and Keely had sat the night after they'd first met. Who'd wanted to destroy what Keely, Penny, and so many others had worked so hard to bring about? It couldn't be Nick. It couldn't.

  "How about when we're done, we go to the Black Bear Cafe and have one of their huge lumberjack breakfasts?" Harlan suggested.

  "I'm in." Another pause while tools clanged against old metal pipes.

  Had someone acquired a taste for the excitement arson created, or was someone with a grudge using the school fires as a smoke screen? After last night, Burke wondered now if they had a fire setter on their hands or a copycat.

  Also, Carrie Walachek had been frequenting the Family Closet. Her father had been forced to help shingle the roof. Had Walachek realized how much pain destroying the thrift shop would cause Keely? But what if more than one person was involved? How would they ever unravel this?

  Maybe I'm fooling myself, but I don't think it's my nephew. I'm not taking any credit. If anyone's done him good, it's been Harlan Carey. I'm no good at relationships. When Sharon got sick, she needed me and I just stepped back and let her go. He pushed this aside. He wished there wasn't a fire setter, and he didn't want it to be Nick. But he didn't want it to be Grady either—for Keely's sake.

  "How's Jayleen Kainz doing?" Harlan asked in a casual tone.

  Suddenly alert, Burke listened for Nick's comment. Was Nick interested in Jayleen? Competition over Jayleen had sparked more conflict between Grady and his nephew. Nick had been sentenced to one month probation for fighting at the A&W. So had Grady. Evidently, someone, maybe his lawyer, had talked Turner out of pressing a charge of false arrest against Burke or the sheriff's department. It would have been hard to win with all the witnesses to the fight.

  "Jayleen's still really messed up. She can't decide whether to try to get her baby back or to let the Weavers adopt her."

  "I see." Harlan then began discussing pipe threads.

  So Nick and Jayleen were getting close enough to discuss important issues. He closed his eyes. He and Keely also never discussed anything but problems. Why couldn't they ever have a peaceful moment alone? And why did he
think he deserved one. She did but not him.

  He couldn't stand that he might have to tell Keely that her brother was responsible. How much would that wound her? As much as it would hurt to find out that his own nephew was guilty? Burke's temples throbbed.

  "Getting back to Jayleen," Harlan said, "I'm glad I never had to make a decision like that."

  "You didn't have to because—" Nick's voice became belligerent—"you cared about your kid, didn't you?"

  "Yes, I loved Daniel. When he was killed, it devastated me. But you realize that Jayleen never intended to hurt her baby."

  "Yeah, I know. She got hooked up with the wrong guy." Nick sounded convinced of Harlan's sincerity. "Not all parents are like you, Harlan, and love their kids." Nick's words came out in a savage rush. "Some fathers don't care about their kids."

  The resentment, the bottled-up rage in Nick's voice chilled Burke. How much fury did his nephew have stored up against his father, against him? Was it enough to spur Nick to set fires and gain the worst kind of attention in order to punish his father and his uncle for their neglect?

  Burke's guilt rose him in him, choking him. The shame forced out a prayer. God, forgive me. Please don't let my mistake, my lack, hurt Nick. A verse from the past Sunday's sermon repeated in Burke's mind: "The Lord is close to the broken-hearted; he rescues those who are crushed in spirit." I'm crushed, God, so I should qualify.

  "Do you mean your father?" Harlan asked point blank.

  Burke drew in a sharp breath. He'd never had the nerve to ask his nephew this.

  "He cheated on my mom. He divorced her and then moved away. Bailed on us completely. I hate him." Nick's every word dripped with bitterness.

  I know his father doesn't really care. And I let myself distance myself from my family. But I care now. I didn't see this coming, didn't see past myself, didn't see that my sorrow over failing Sharon made me fail everyone.

  "I don't blame you," Harlan declared with a tartness in his voice Burke had rarely heard. "If I met your dad, I'd have a hard time not blistering his ears. What did he mean by leaving you and your mom?"

  "Everybody tells me—" Nick sounded affected by Harlan's passion, hurt overcoming anger in his voice—"these things happen."

  "They happen because of the hard hearts of men and women." Then Harlan said with a challenge in his voice, "Nick?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Don't ever do that to your own son."

  A pause. "I won't."

  "It won't be easy. What's happened to you will affect you a long way down the road. The only way you can keep from repeating your father's mistake is to think before you act and keep in touch with God. Look at Jayleen. Her mother's uncaring behavior led Jayleen to do something she never thought she would do. Look at how she's suffering now. You have to think. Because everything you do will make a difference not only in your life but in your children's." Then Harlan grunted as though he was tightening something.

  Humbled by Harlan's courage in bringing up Nick's father's desertion and giving Nick direction, Burke waited to hear his nephew's answer.

  "Mr. Carey, could I ask you something else?"

  "Sure."

  Burke went on alert.

  "Do you think my uncle is in love with Ms. Turner?"

  The question nearly bolted Burke upright on the couch, shock rippling through him.

  "What makes you think he might have feelings for Keely Turner?" Harlan asked, sounding like he was sliding out from under the sink.

  "Did you know my uncle lost his wife like you lost yours?"

  "He did?" Harlan groaned as if he was getting up. "She must have died pretty young then."

  Burke shifted on the sofa. Nick was talking about Sharon. His nephew had only been in grade school when she'd passed away. He hadn't thought Nick even remembered Sharon much. An image came to Burke, Sharon pulling Nicky, a pudgy three year old, in a wagon. They'd been babysitting him. A twinge crimped around Burke's heart.

  "Yeah, she was just twenty-nine. My mom tries to fix my uncle up with friends of hers, but nothing ever happens."

  "It's very rare when matchmaking like that works out," Harlan agreed. "Your uncle should be the one to decide when he's ready to start dating again."

  "Yeah. Did you date after your wife died?"

  Harlan must have paused to test the faucets. Burke listened to each being turned on and off while he struggled to release the guilt he always felt when he thought of Sharon.

  "No, I just didn't have the heart to date anyone," Harlan replied.

  "But Bruno and Ma did. They got married."

  "I don't think either of them had plans to fall in love again," Harlan said in a quiet voice.

  "Then what happened?"

  "God blessed them a second time. If you don't remember anything else I've said today, Nick, remember this. Love is a gift from God. Don't ever waste love."

  Harlan's words rocked Burke's heart, sending shock waves through him. "Don't waste love." I love Keely even though I have no right. Guilt strangled him.

  "Love's much too precious in this wicked world, "Harlan continued. "Never be afraid to tell someone that you love them. That's wasting God's greatest gift."

  The older man's words stripped away Burke's ambivalence, his lack of clarity about his feelings. He knew then he had feelings for Keely, not just attraction. But how could he move toward her? So much separated them I don't want to waste love again. He felt a silent groan go through him. The old pain of being out of step, of sham still scoured, dug out chunks of him.

  "Yeah." His nephew paused. "Yeah."

  The phone rang. Nick picked it up. "Uncle Burke! Wake up! It's the sheriff for you!"

  Burke got up and walked to the kitchen, stretching the kinks out of his back. Trying not to show how out of control his emotions were, he kept his head down and took the phone. "Hello."

  "Burke," Rodd said, "we just had someone come in to inform on our fire setter."

  Burke came wide awake. "Who?"

  "Veda McCracken."

  "She set the fire?"

  "No." Rodd sounded dubious. "She says Grady Turner did it. She saw him."

  The following Thursday evening, Keely stilled her nerves. Her very first dinner party had turned out better than she had anticipated. However, she was still waking up with nightmares over witnessing the Family Closet burn. Nonetheless, she wasn't about to let that keep her from doing what needed to be done. So she ignored the tension at the base of her skull and offered her guests after dinner decaf coffee with the dessert.

  The fundraiser committee, comprised of Gus Feeney, Freda Loscher, Shane Blackfeather, Old Doc Erickson, and Burke, subbing tonight for Rodd, sat around the late Mrs.Armbruster's round oak dining table. Soon they'd begin discussing the Christmas fundraiser in LaFollette. But Keely was having a hard time concentrating. Burke's presence distracted her. The way he'd held her in his arms the night of the fire was never far below her conscious thought sand popped up at will. Tonight worry and attraction took turns tugging at her like impatient children.

  "A lovely dinner, my dear." Old Doc, with his bushy white eyebrows, beamed at her.

  "Will you give us a tour of your home after our meeting?" Freda asked, glancing around the dining area off the kitchen.

  "I'd be happy to." Keely's voice quivered, and she hoped no one noticed. Why can't I shake this sadness? She steadied herself. "But I really haven't finished decorating."

  "It's a cool house," Shane added.

  "Thanks." Keely gave him a smile. Shane had volunteered to take the lead on the student committee for this year's "new doctor" fundraiser. He'd come so far in the past four years.

  "Now we can get down to business," Gus said, accepting a cup of coffee from Keely.

  She nodded and handed a cup to Burke. Though she tried mentally to keep him at arm's length, he'd managed to snag her attention all evening. One crisis after another had dogged them since the first night they'd met. They should hate the sight of each other.

  Now,
taking the cup, Burke's fingertips touched hers; Keely's disloyal pulse raced. She took her seat again at the head of the table.

  "What has yet to be finalized?" Freda asked.

  "First, could someone explain what all this fundraising for a doctor means?" Burke asked. "Rodd just called and told me to get over here tonight. He didn't have time to explain."

  Keely tried to rein in her sensitivity to this man's voice, but she felt herself leaning toward him.

  "Well, young man," Old Doc started, "I'm way past retirement. Have been for twenty years. Though we have a few other doctors and dentists in this poor county, I need to retire and we need a new doctor. Trouble is, no one around here grew up wanting to be a doctor."

  "Except for Dr. Doug," Shane put in, raising his hand as if he were in class.

  Keely settled herself against the back of her chair and hazarded a sip of coffee.

  "That's right. Except for my grandson. My son was a doctor, too, but we lost him early. God rest his soul. So it's really just me and Doug keeping the clinic open. Without this clinic, people around here would have to drive an hour or more to get to an emergency room."

  "We don't want the clinic to close," Gus insisted. "We'll never keep our young people or attract new people without adequate health care."

  Burke held up a hand. "You don't have to sell me the idea. I just want to know how raising funds can bring a doctor here."

  "Well," Old Doc went on, "I finally decided that the only way we'd ever get a new doctor is if we found a medical student who needed money bad enough to agree to come here to practice medicine after residency. It took time, but we finally connected with one who'd sign a contract with us. We've been paying half her expenses every year for the past six years. When she finishes up, she'll come here and practice medicine for six years. Then she'll be free to stay on or leave."

  "But of course we hope she'll stay," Freda crowed. "Dr. Doug needs a wife, too."

  Keely groaned silently. The poor new doctor. Just look at all the gossip that surrounded her and Burke.