“I thought when they got Mr. Hern’s money, you’d be shut off from them.”
“Timothy left their money in a trust fund, which means they draw interest from it, but they can’t touch the capital investment. They could easily live on that interest if they didn’t waste it.”
“I don’t know why they think you should give them anything.”
“Because my inheritance came without any strings attached. I can use it any way I want to, but they needn’t think I’m going to dole out money the way their father did,” Ellen said as she went into her own bedroom and locked the door into the hall. About half past ten she heard the Herns coming upstairs. Someone turned the doorknob to her room, and she supposed it was Bruce, but when he found it was locked, he moved on without saying anything. Ellen would never feel safe with Bruce in the house. Five years her senior, Bruce had taken her marriage to Timothy as a joke. He’d started flirting with her immediately, constantly calling at the house when Timothy was gone. Even when Timothy was present, he would kiss her when he arrived at the house, but when Timothy had noticed her annoyance, he’d warned, “Keep your hands off of Ellen. She doesn’t like it, nor do I.”
But that admonition hadn’t stopped Bruce’s attentions completely, and one day when he grabbed her in his arms, Timothy had entered the room. He didn’t say a word, but he stopped Bruce’s allowance for a month, and from then on Bruce had left her alone. Timothy wasn’t here to protect her now, and she didn’t know how she could deal with Bruce on a daily basis. She supposed she’d have to accept Thompson’s protection even if she didn’t want it.
Ellen stood by the window and tried to pray, and for the first time in years, she had the assurance that God was listening.
“God, in the eyes of the world, I have everything—a fortune, two large houses, even my youth. But I feel as empty as if I were a pauper. I’m out of fellowship with You, I have few true friends, and my life is aimless. If You are in charge of the world, why have You allowed so many evil things to happen?”
While she didn’t receive any answer to her doubts, she did feel secure, knowing that God hadn’t forgotten her, that He was willing to hear her pleas. But sleep eluded her for a long time as she considered her antipathy toward the Herns. From out of her past, she seemed to hear the words of Reverend Truett: “ ‘Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice: and be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.’ ”
He’d quoted those words to her on the day her father was taken to prison, and later when she had lashed out at the residents of Daltonville for causing her father’s death. Her hurt was so great then that she couldn’t follow his advice. Could she do so now? Ellen longed to experience again the presence of God in her heart. She longed desperately to read God’s Word, but she didn’t suppose there was a Bible at Arrowwood.
Ellen awoke the next morning thinking about Lane, wondering if she should cancel the invitation. She considered sending Thompson over with a note of explanation, but she determined that the Herns wouldn’t dictate her movements. She let the invitation stand.
When she talked to Annie about another guest, the cook said, “Want to use the good china and silver? I noticed there’s a cabinet full of fancy stuff.”
Remembering she’d told Lane that the meal would be informal, she said, “No, just the everyday items we’ve been using, but prepare a nourishing meal. Our guest tonight is one of the archaeologists on the island, and he’s living on snack food.”
After lunch, Ellen, with Thompson following, walked down the trail to the boathouse. Thompson’s face reddened with anger when he saw that the new padlock had been broken and wrenched away from the hasp.
“Who’s doing this?” he said.
“And why? That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Look! One of the boats is gone.”
Only one motorboat and a skiff lay at anchor along the concrete wall.
“More mystery,” Ellen muttered. “I wish I’d gone to Europe this summer as I planned.”
“You think you have troubles! Warren is losing patience with me. He sent me down here to keep order.”
“But he told you to stay at the house, and you can’t be two places at once.”
“Let’s go for our boat ride anyway.” Thompson untied the boat, saying, “When Warren comes to stay in the house with you, I’ll patrol these woods at night.”
Ellen glanced toward Indian Island as they whizzed up-river, but she saw no sign of Lane. With the breeze blowing her hair and the spray cooling her face, for a moment Ellen forgot the problems that seemed to be converging upon her. They spent an hour on the river, going many miles north of Daltonville.
“I hope someone doesn’t steal that boat,” she said to Thompson as they climbed the hill to the house. “I intend to go out on the river often this summer. That’s one thing I can enjoy without being followed.”
“Maybe I should watch the boathouse tonight.”
“As long as the Herns are visiting, I’ll be more content to have you in the house.”
“You don’t expect any trouble from them, do you?”
“I have reason not to trust my stepson.”
An angry look suffused Thompson’s face, and his eyes glinted above the reddish whiskers. “I’ll take care of that bird if he touches you,” he ground out between clenched teeth. Noting his possessive look, a wave of apprehension swept through Ellen, and she wondered how far she could trust this man. She silently thanked God that Lane was nearby.
The evening turned out better than Ellen had hoped. Even though she had told Lane they would dress informally, she couldn’t resist wearing one of the new dresses she’d bought for her European tour. She put on a low-waisted evening dress in pale orange georgette with orange and yellow beaded fringe. She wore a pair of silver tinsel shoes. As she reached for jewelry, however, she laid the diamond-studded pin back in the case, and chose instead an imitation cameo necklace that Lane had given her for Christmas the year before their relationship had ended. Would he even notice?
Lane arrived soon after six, and instead of taking him into the drawing room where the Herns were sitting, she asked, “Shall we take a tour of the house?”
He looked with obvious approval at the gleaming walls and the glistening chandelier in the entrance hall.
“Beautiful! This is the way the house looked when I came here as a kid to visit my grandparents. We always arrived on Christmas Eve, and there was a huge decorated cedar tree in that corner. I can still smell the fresh gingerbread that Grandmother served at Christmas.”
“Probably because that’s what we’re having for dessert tonight. I remember that your favorite dessert was blackberry pie, but the berries aren’t ripe yet.”
She opened the door into the ballroom.
“Classy! Are you going to invite me to the ball?”
“Timothy liked to entertain on a big scale, and if he’d lived we would have used this room often. But with everything that’s going on, I doubt I’ll do much partying this summer.”
“Something new happened?”
Ellen lowered her voice. “For one thing, my husband’s children arrived unexpectedly yesterday and seem determined to make an extended visit. And someone broke into the boathouse last night and stole one of the motorboats.”
“I’m not so sure of that. I found the boat today caught in some brush at the lower end of the island. At least I assumed it was your boat since it had ‘Arrowwood’ painted on the side. I towed it over when I came and tied it by the building.”
“The boat couldn’t have broken the lock on the door, drifted out of Apple Creek, and then over to the island all by itself.”
“Ellen, do you think it’s wise for you to be here? Why don’t you go back to Cleveland?” he asked with a note of warning in his voice.
“I won’t be driven out of my house. Do you want to see the cellar? I’
m sure there are lots of changes down there.”
“You’re right,” Lane agreed when they descended the narrow steps. “This was nothing but a hole in the ground when we lived here. We didn’t have a furnace, just used the fireplaces, and, boy, this house was hard to heat in the winter.”
“At first, Timothy bought the house because it was a whim of mine, but he became interested in using this for a summer home. He spent a lot of money on renovation.”
“I’ve always heard that things seem smaller as you get older, and that’s the way with this basement. I remember the place being a lot bigger than this, and,” he paused as he glanced around, “I thought there was a small alcove under the ell of the house.”
“Probably Timothy had that walled off. Some of the blueprints for the renovation are missing, so I don’t know just what he did.”
“That’s where I played when I was a kid. The alcove led to an underground tunnel where my ancestors hid their livestock and other valuables during the Civil War. This valley was harassed by both Federal and Confederate raiders.”
“Was that why the tunnel was built?”
“No, the tunnel was dug by the first Hern who lived here. He built it as a means of protection from Indian raids, but most of the Indians had moved westward by then.”
“How did you get into the tunnel?”
“I don’t know, now that this basement has been changed. I wouldn’t be surprised if the thing has caved in anyway. That’s been a long time.”
A gong sounded in the kitchen, and she said, “Let’s go up now. I’m afraid I can’t promise you a very stimulating evening.”
Lane put his arms around her. “It’ll be stimulating just to be with you. You look beautiful tonight.” His words were as soft as a caress, and he touched the cameo on the front of her dress. “Do I recognize this?”
“You should. You bought it for me.”
“Ellen, must we continue to live with memories, or do we start over again?”
She broke his embrace reluctantly. “I don’t know. I’ve tried for nine years to make my heart forget you, so I don’t know that I can revive what we had. It may be gone forever.”
Bending over, he kissed her forehead and touched her lips with his fingers. “I don’t think so. Time can’t erase the love we shared.” He kissed her hand before they climbed the steps.
The dinner went much better than Ellen had expected. Margaret had already fed Henry and taken him upstairs. Bruce was suavely polite and talked with Lane about his summer’s activities. Ellen didn’t have any more time alone with Lane, but after she went to bed, she theorized that was just as well anyway. In spite of her protests to the contrary, she knew she’d never stopped loving Lane Dalton. But what if Warren’s suspicion that Lane was involved in the mystery at Arrowwood were true? Was Lane destined to hurt her again?
Sounds of jazz music wailing from the piano in the ballroom greeted Ellen when she started downstairs for breakfast the next morning. Karen had arrived!
Ellen stood in the doorway and watched Karen a few minutes. Timothy’s granddaughter was slightly plump, but her heart-shaped lips and an oval face surrounded by a luxuriant tangle of chestnut hair gave her a rare beauty. Eighteen-year-old Karen Kinzel, bubbling and full of life, typified the rebellious youth of the twenties.
When Karen noticed that Ellen stood in the doorway, the girl gave one final thump to the piano keys and ran toward her.
“Peaches!” she shouted. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
Ellen had been Peaches to Karen since she had become a part of the family. She accepted the girl’s kiss and said, “Well, actually, I have all the company I need.”
“Oh, you’re not to worry. Our gang is camping down by the gatehouse. The old man at the gate wasn’t too happy when we rolled in about midnight and set up our tents. I told him I was a member of the family, and he finally agreed to let us stay.”
“A gang?”
“Four of us. We’ve been rattling around the country in my jalopy. I found out where Mom was and telephoned her last night. She told me about the crime wave down here, and I decided you needed my help before anyone else is bumped off.”
“It’s hardly a crime wave, just a break-in and a fire, so we don’t need you.”
“Uh-huh! What about Deerslayer’s ghost?”
“Nothing but superstition. Be a dear and leave now, and in a few weeks, I’ll take you to Europe with me.”
“To Europe on a smelly old steamer! No, thanks, Peaches. You can’t buy me off. We’re going to stay. We won’t get in your hair, but I do hope you’ll let us have a party in this room.”
“We’ll see.”
Karen looked around the room. “This is sure a swanky place.”
“Have you seen your mother?”
“At this hour of the morning? That’s the reason I came early. I knew I’d miss Mom and could see you. Bentley didn’t want to let me in, but I charmed him.”
Ellen laughed affectionately and followed Karen to the door. A Model-A Ford, with many printed slogans and names on its shiny black paint, stood in front of the portico, and Karen pointed to it with pride.
“One of the things I’ve bought with my inheritance. Good old Granddad did me a big favor by giving me a trust fund so I can be independent. I’m having the time of my life.”
“I imagine your grandfather left you that money to use for your education.”
“Oh, don’t be a dumb Dora! I’m going back to college in the fall, but what’s wrong with having some fun this summer?”
“Nothing maybe, but do be careful, Karen. Lots of dangerous things are happening.”
Karen stepped up on the running board and swung into the car without opening the door. She waved her hand, and with a sputter and bang, the jalopy sped away.
A few hours later, when Thompson left to make a periodic report to Warren, Ellen took advantage of his absence. Without even telling Fannie where she was going, she headed out of the house and down the hill. The lock on the boathouse was still broken, but both of the motorboats and the skiff were inside.
The boat she and Thompson had last used was chained to the wall with a padlock on it, and she decided that Thompson had made sure no one could steal it. The other boat, that Lane had retrieved, was secured with a rope, so she easily untied it. She checked the fuel and looked for a life jacket, and seeing one in the boat, Ellen pushed the boat from its mooring into the creek, jumped in, and drifted with the current toward the river. Willows overhung the bank, and huge weeds grew profusely among the trees. A pair of wood ducks scurried out of her way toward the reeds, and she saw three ducklings darting after their parents.
Lane and another man stood at the river’s edge, and she waved to them. Ellen pulled the starter rope, the motor purred to life, and she gradually picked up speed. The boat plunged forward quickly, but suddenly it halted, the motor faltered, then exploded with a loud blast. The force of the explosion pitched Ellen into the river, and she remembered tardily that she hadn’t put on the life jacket. Momentarily stunned, she floundered in the current. The front end of the boat floated by, and she grabbed for it, missed, and tried to tread water. Her brain was so muddled that she couldn’t even remember how to swim. Hearing a shout, she looked toward the island and saw a rowboat heading her way bearing Lane and another man.
“Hold on, Ellen,” Lane called, and she tried to move in his direction. When they reached her, Lane handed his oars to his companion and pulled Ellen into the boat. She leaned against him weakly, feeling safe in his arms.
“What happened?” Lane asked.
“I don’t know. The engine just exploded and tore the end out of the boat.”
When the rowboat nudged the eastern bank, Lane said to the other man, “Wait for me while I take her to the house.”
“Oh, don’t bother. I can make it all right.” Her wet clothes clung to her body, and she shivered in spite of the hot sun.
“I’m taking you home. Do you know how close you came to
being killed?”
Was this a deliberate attempt on her life? Was one boat padlocked to keep her from using it? For the first time, Ellen began to wonder about Thompson. How much did John Warren know about him? Or had someone learned that Thompson was a federal officer and had tried to get rid of him? Could it have been Lane? He’d said he found the boat and brought it back, but had he? She giggled, and Lane looked at her anxiously. Next thing, she’d be suspecting John Warren too.
Lane kept his arm around her as they walked up the hill, and he didn’t leave until she was safe in the kitchen with Annie.
“Be careful, Ellen. I’ll check on you soon.”
Ellen crept up the back stairs to avoid the other occupants of the house. As she bathed and then changed into dry clothing, she knew she’d barely escaped death. If Lane hadn’t been watching from the island, she doubted she could have saved herself. Had the explosion been an accident? Had someone heard her say she intended to use the boats often this summer? She couldn’t face Bruce and Margaret when her nerves were so edgy, so she lay down on the bed. She drifted into a troubled sleep and slept until Fannie awakened her about two o’clock, apparently unaware of Ellen’s accident.
“Ellen, honey, are you awake? I thought the rest would do you more good than food, so I let you sleep through lunch, but that Mr. Warren is downstairs now and wants to see you.”
“I suppose I’d better come down. I think he’s going to pay us a visit.”
“We don’t need any more company.”
“You’re telling me! This summer has become a nightmare.”
Ellen’s legs wobbled when she walked down the stairs and into the living room where Warren was talking with Bruce. The marshal gave her an appraising glance, started to say something but apparently thought better of it, and only nodded.
“How do you do, Mr. Warren? So nice that you could pay us a visit. Are you going to stay for awhile?”
“Yes, for the rest of the week, if you have the room.”
“We’re a little overcrowded with guests right now, but I’ll try to find a place for you,” Ellen said with a significant glance at Bruce. “Since you’ve had a long drive, you probably don’t want to sit down again for awhile. Shall we stroll around the grounds?”
Love Almost Lost Page 8
