“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Henry said and went back to the coffee pot. “So what’s up for you today?”
“We’re close to having things ready for the Black Masque and Lydia and her crew are nearly ready for Halloween. Sylvie will be here this afternoon and then I’m in Des Moines this evening.”
“What are you doing in Des Moines?”
Polly laughed. “I really don’t tell you anything, do I? I’m sorry.”
“You’re bad that way. So what’s in Des Moines?”
“Obiwan and I have a few weeks of training. He is going to be a reading therapy dog at the library.”
“So, Obiwan is learning to read? I know he’s smart, but wow.”
“No, you nut,” she laughed. “Little kids will read out loud to him. Talk about no judgment. He’ll just be glad to have attention.”
“So how long does this training last?” he asked.
“Are you asking me how long I’ll be gone tonight or how many weeks we’re doing this?”
“Well, both … but mostly, when will you be back tonight?”
“We’ll be gone for a few hours each week for the next few weeks. There’s a certification test mid- November.”
“That’s pretty cool, Polly. I’m proud of you. There isn’t much you aren’t willing to take on, is there?”
“I figure this will be fun for both of us and it will get me busy in a library again.”
“Okay, I’d better go. You have to feed the beasts and I’m building cabinets for the Millers’ kitchen remodel.” He bent down and kissed her. “I’m glad nothing else happened last night.”
“Oh, that’s right!” she exclaimed. “Who should I call about replacing the glass in those windows?”
“I’ll make the call and then let you know when they’re coming.”
Polly stood and followed him through her bedroom to the top of the steps. “Thank you for taking care of things last night, and thanks for staying. I know my couch isn’t that comfortable.”
“It’s better than my couch.” He kissed her and left.
“He’s pretty good to me, Obiwan,” she said to the dog who was focused on the missed opportunity to go outside.
She pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, glanced in a mirror and moaned. “Well, at least he didn’t run away because of my morning hair,” she said to no one in particular. Grabbing a ball cap, she pulled it over the mess on top of her head and went into the living room. Both cats were on the kitchen counter, looking at her with pitiful eyes.
“I’ll be back. Stay calm,” she said. “Come on, Obiwan. We’d better get this morning started before they panic.”
She met Eliseo in the barn. “Good morning,” he said. “I saw Henry leave. Is everything okay?”
“Someone broke windows out in the kitchen last night. He covered them and is calling the glass company.”
“What’s going on around here?” Eliseo asked.
“I wish I knew. It scares me. Henry was worried last night, too, so he stayed on my couch.”
“You can’t think of anyone who would do this?”
“I’ve only lived here for a little more than a year. I can’t believe I had enough time to really make someone so angry.”
“That’s really strange. It’s not one of your guests?”
“They’re too involved in their own business to spend time thinking about how to vandalize my building.”
They went to work mucking out stalls. Demi was feeling especially playful with Polly and when she turned her back on him to pick up a large mass of muck, he nosed her in the butt, nearly sending her face down into the bedding.
“Hey!” she said. “Stop that.” She felt like he was laughing at her and opened the door so he could go outside. If he was finished eating, he could get out of her way. He started through the door, then stopped and shook himself from head to tail. “Sheesh,” she muttered, “I didn’t need the breeze.”
When they were finished with chores, she and Obiwan went back to the apartment. The cats had given up and were curled up on the sofa. As soon as she set foot in the door and walked to the kitchen, they came fully alert and ran to follow her.
Luke stretched out across the path in front of her. “You’re going to be the death of me. I’m getting your food, let me walk!” Leia parked herself in front of her food dish. When Polly attempted to fill it, Leia rubbed against the container, just as she did every morning. The cats were always a good distraction from the world.
After a shower, Polly got dressed and headed back to the kitchen. She was still hungry, so she pulled out a loaf of bread, sliced two pieces off and dropped them in the toaster. While the bread was toasting, she poured herself another cup of coffee and set it down on the dining room table, and then went to her bookshelves and pulled out her Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. She wasn’t sure what Thomas had done, but she was sure that she would find it in this book.
One evening he had been in her apartment, browsing through her bookshelves. She was astounded at how well-read he was. Writing took up so much of his time, she couldn’t believe he had time to read and that he enjoyed reading the classics.
The toast popped up and she dropped the book on the table as she went past. The thud caught the attention of her animals, but they went right back to their food. Back at her laptop, she opened the folder containing Thomas Zeller’s files. If she could figure out the puzzle and the order these things were meant to be in, she knew she could get closer to what it was he wanted her to know.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Lydia.
“Can you do lunch at Davey’s today? Sylvie is going to be back in town, Andy isn’t at the library, and we all should bond. Yes?”
Polly smiled. Trust Lydia to make good use of a time when they would all be free. “I’ll be there. What time?”
“One o’clock. Will that work?”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
“I love you, dear!” came the response.
The thing was, Lydia really did love her. Polly didn’t know what she would do without her friends. These women had gone out of their way to welcome her to Bellingwood. She’d never known anyone quite like Lydia Merritt. She was always busy, but had plenty of time when people needed her. She was a wonderful mother to her kids, a terrific cook, a great wife to her husband, she organized a million things at church, she was head of the Bellingwood welcoming committee and managed to make it all look easy. Polly hoped that she would be half as capable someday.
Before she could get back to the puzzle in front of her, her phone buzzed with another text. “The glass company will be there tomorrow afternoon. I love you, pretty girl!”
That made her feel warm inside. Henry had seen her at her worst that morning and he still called her pretty girl. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with his confession that he’d fallen in love with her before they’d begun remodeling Sycamore House. At that point, she was still coming off the rawness of a terrible relationship and hadn’t been ready for another one. But Henry never pushed. He just stuck around. When she got scared, he kept sticking around and waited while she figured it out.
She insisted that she wasn’t ready to be married and he never argued. Every once in a while, though, a flicker of something more crossed her mind. Polly sat back in her chair and raised the mug of coffee to her lips. Was she really thinking about being married to Henry? What would that even look like?
She had no desire to live anywhere other than Sycamore House, so how would they make that work? They couldn’t live in this small apartment. It was big enough for her and three animals, but there wasn’t room for another person. She didn’t want to live in his house. He refused to move into the master bedroom because it was too strange to sleep where his parents had slept and he hadn’t changed anything after his parents moved south. But his shop was right there and it was a wonderful house. She loved his front porch. They’d spent some wonderful evenings sitting in the porch swing during the summer, watching the world g
o by.
They had talked around some of the issues in their relationship, but Henry was insistent that they didn’t have to play by anyone else’s rules and that they weren’t in any hurry. She had never been able to corner him on what he wanted for his future. It wasn’t his fault. She knew he was trying to keep her from being terrified at the prospect of making a long-term commitment. But what if she was ready? How would she tell him that? Was she going to have to go down on a knee and propose?
Polly laughed out loud, startling the animals. While she’d been quietly sipping coffee and thinking about her future with Henry, Obiwan had curled up beside her on the floor and the cats had settled in on the table beside her laptop.
“Sorry guys,” she said. “I thought about proposing to Henry and it made me laugh. He’d kill me. As much as he says that we can do things our own way, he’s still pretty traditional.”
The animals listened as she spoke and she leaned forward to scratch Luke’s ears. Leia had curled up beside him and reached out a paw. Polly took it in her hand, feeling the warmth radiate from it. She released it and rubbed her hand down Leia’s back, swirling her tail around before sitting back again.
“What’s my problem?” she asked them. “I don’t think I’m ready to settle down. It’s not like I’m looking for anyone else, but I’m not finished being Polly Giller yet. I like waking up in the morning alone with you guys. Sure, there are times I’d like to have Henry here and I think I’d like to snuggle with him in the mornings, but not all the time. I’m not ready to give that up. Am I being selfish?”
The cats blinked at her and then curled back in on themselves.
“You are absolutely no help,” she scolded. “And I don’t know who else to talk to about this. The girls all think I should be married. I know that Aaron and Henry would like to have me married because they think I’d be safe that way. Stupid men.”
Her phone buzzed again, “Hey. You there?” It was Henry.
She looked at the list of texts. Whoops. She’d forgotten to respond. “Sorry. Got caught up in something. I love you too. Doing lunch with the girls today. You weren’t planning on going with me tonight, were you?”
“Nope. Not tonight. If I don’t talk to you before, drive safe and text me when you’re there and when you’re leaving.”
“I will. I promise. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She opened her video chat program and dialed Jeff’s computer. He was sitting at his desk. “What’s up, Polly?”
“I’m working upstairs this morning and then I have lunch with the girls at Davey’s. Are you okay without me?”
“I’m fine. There are a couple of meetings going on, but nothing catastrophic. What’s up in the kitchen?”
She chuckled. “We had a little vandalism again last night. Did you get another email?”
“Oh, I just got in, I haven’t looked yet. Just a second.”
She watched him peering at his computer screen, then he said. “Yeah. I got another one. It says, ‘Pretty rocks for a pretty girl.’ That sounds creepy, Polly.”
“I know,” she said. “He threw three rocks through the glass panes. I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Do you want me to call Ken?”
“I called last night. They sent someone over and there’s nothing they can do. We don’t have enough information.”
“Should I call about the glass?”
“Henry already did. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Well thanks, I feel totally helpless right now. I don’t like that.”
“Neither do I, but what can we do?”
“What are you working on?” he asked, “See, I changed the subject. Did that help?”
“It did,” she said. “I have an idea about these files that Thomas gave me, but if I don’t get working on them, I’m going to run out of time. I’ve already wasted too much time this morning being a girl.”
“Being a girl?” he asked.
“Yeah. Worrying about silly stuff. Now I’m going to get to work. If you need me, holler.”
“Cool. See you later.”
He clicked off and his image left the screen. Polly pulled the book closer to her and did a quick search for Edgar Allan Poe online. When the amount of information overwhelmed her, she opened up the book. This was going to take a while.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
One more story or poem by Poe and Polly was going to moan. She was tired of this. She’d read Tamerlane and The Gold Bug, some of his poems, and had gotten lost in a few of her favorite stories, but she couldn’t make sense of how to associate these files with what she was reading.
She had been interrupted several times. Sheriff Merritt released the crime scene and she had to wait for a cleanup crew to deal with the room. He’d found nothing to incriminate anyone on Thomas’s laptop, so Polly let Natalie Dormand know that the it was coming back. The woman seemed glad to hear it, but looked wan and weary. She asked Polly if there was a possibility of her staying for several more days so Polly sent her to Jeff.
Her first look at the middle bedroom had been when she’d opened the door for the cleanup crew. Her heart fell. She knew the mattress would need to be replaced, but the beautiful writing desk had been smashed in the struggle and there was blood spattered on the rug and the floor. The crew leader assured her that the floor would be fully cleaned up and asked how she wanted to deal with the rug. She told him that everything could be replaced and to simply get rid of it, hoping that would make his job easier. They had donned their protective suits and gone to work. She went back to her apartment and collapsed on the sofa.
“It has to be easier than this, Obiwan,” she said, stroking his head. He was lying beside her, his head in her lap, his tail wagging. “You want to go outside, don’t you.”
He jumped off the couch and ran for the bedroom, so she followed and they went outside. Obiwan took off for the tree line. It was one of his favorite places to explore. Polly followed more slowly, her mind still trying to figure out Thomas’s puzzle. He should have given her some clue. She stopped and shut her eyes, thinking back to one of their conversations.
He’d come down to the horse pen, watching Polly exercise Daisy. Eliseo had gone to Boone for supplies and she was glad for the company. Thomas didn’t seem to want anything, he was just watching the horse. When she released Daisy into the pasture, she came back to stand beside him.
“Do you ever want children, Polly?” he’d asked her.
“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“I was watching the time you take with your horses. You have to really exert control over them or they’d take over. Do you suppose it’s that way with kids, too?”
She had laughed. That was one of the things that scared her about being responsible for a child. Polly knew she had a strong personality and was terrified of trying to find the balance between being too harsh and being too lenient. She didn’t figure a child would have a chance in her crazy life.
“Why do you laugh?” he’d asked.
“Raising a kid scares me to death. When I see what Sylvie has done with her boys, I’m so proud of her I can’t stand it. But she worries over them all the time and I’m not ready for that.”
“You’d be great at it,” he said.
“I don’t know. It just seems overwhelming. What about you?”
He’d gone quiet, then said, “Polly, I was such a mess that I would have devastated children. My Nelly? Any child would be lucky to have her for a mother.”
“Have you ever searched for her?”
Thomas didn’t respond. He just looked off into the pasture and watched Nat and Demi bouncing around, nipping at each other. Polly let out a whistle, one that Eliseo had taught her, and caught their attention. They stopped what they were doing and wandered to the pile of hay.
“See, you’d make a great mother,” he said to her.
“They’re horses. I won’t have to pay for therapy when they get older.”
He’
d gotten quiet and they walked back up to Sycamore House together. He didn’t seem to want to be alone that day, so she had taken time to talk to him and listen to what he had to say.
Polly came back to reality and looked for Obiwan. He was sniffing in and around the trees. She whistled and he ran to her. “I feel better about letting you run without a leash,” she said to him. “I appreciate you being so obedient.” She crouched down and hugged him. “You’re a good dog. Let’s go on in.”
They went upstairs and she checked the time. It was only eleven forty-five, so she sat back down and opened the book again, remembering another conversation she and Thomas had about Poe. She’d asked him which single piece was his favorite.
He’d laughed. “Everyone thinks that The Raven is his best piece. It’s probably his most popular, but I’m partial to Annabel Lee. There is so much love in that poem.” He’d paused and his face grew sad. “And so much loss. When I lost my love, I read that poem over and over again. It felt like the angels had stolen her from me. She didn’t have a sepulchre by the sea, no place I could go to mourn. The only place I could let it out was in my books.”
Polly started. It had to be Annabel Lee. She opened the book and began reading the poem. This had to be it. Now what was he doing with it? How did he associate this with the files on the drive? And for that matter, why had he turned this into a puzzle?
Then, she saw it at the bottom corner of the page. Someone, it had to have been Thomas, had drawn an itty bitty heart in pencil. Not enough to cause her to open to that page, but enough to tell her that she was on the right track.
She did a quick search online and found the poem, then copied it into her note program. Then Polly turned back to the folder on her laptop. There were thirty-three files at the top level … that matched to the thirty-three lines in the poem. She was getting closer. This had to be it. She could feel the excitement building.
Her phone’s alarm buzzed at her. What in the world? She checked it and saw that her calendar app was reminding her to meet everyone for lunch in fifteen minutes.
“Dammit.” She slammed the laptop lid down, pushed her phone into her back pocket, and strode to the front door. The animals looked up, cat eyes blinking sleepily at her. Obiwan followed her to the door, hopeful to go with her.
Diane Greenwood Muir - Bellingwood 05 - Life Between the Lines Page 12
