“Yes,” Hallie admitted.
“Good—because that star on the rim means that whatever you wished for is going to come true. So I hope it was a good wish, and not something wholly frivolous.” Aunt Gwen smiled, her pale blue eyes sparkling once more and her dimple peeping. “I know how you young people are nowadays, wishing you had a better car or more cell-phone minutes or other such things. Do you play video games, as well?”
“Sometimes,” Hallie responded, grinning sheepishly.
“Well, good!” Aunt Gwen avowed, much to her niece’s surprise. “Maybe you can teach me how to play—or, at the very least, how to manage the accounting software Hennie and I bought for the computer. She and I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. But, oh, we did have such fun trying.
“Now, for heaven’s sake, Hallie, go and get cleaned up, while I cook your breakfast, so we can get those chickens fed before I’m thoroughly tempted to go outside and strangle Old Bernard for making such a dreadful racket!”
Chapter 5
Talking to the Bees
G rabbing her luggage from the small vestibule beyond the kitchen, Hallie headed upstairs to her childhood bedroom. She yearned desperately for a long hot bath, but settled instead for a short steaming shower in the main bathroom. Then she brushed her teeth and hair, plaiting this latter into a French braid, thinking that would prove more practical for farm chores than leaving it loose. She dressed in clean clothes—a T-shirt, jeans and a pair of sturdy old shoes she would not mind getting muddy, then rejoined her great-aunt in the kitchen.
By that time, breakfast was ready, consisting of fresh eggs from the chicken coop, along with bacon and Texas toast from the sack of groceries Aunt Gwen had thoughtfully brought with her this morning and had fetched from her car.
Although both women would have loved to linger over tea, there were the chickens to be fed and other chores to attend to, and soon the two of them were tramping around the farm, with Aunt Gwen pointing out a number of different things she and Gram had intended to do before the latter had so suddenly and unexpectedly passed away.
“This is where Hennie died,” the elderly lady explained as they finally reached the white wooden beehives that lay just beyond the backyard. “One minute, she was talking to me and the bees, and the next minute, she was suffering a sudden, massive stroke.
“I knew what it was, of course, the moment I saw it happen. My late husband died in much the same way, except from a heart attack, rather than a stroke.
“I reached her side just in time to hear her whisper Jotham’s name, and then she stretched out one hand—toward nothing, it seemed, when I looked in that direction. But I knew he was there, that he had come for her at long last, and when I glanced back down at her, she was gone.
“I suppose most people would think it a curious thing, Hallie, but she was smiling. So I knew she was happy and at peace when she finally left this world, and that she’d gone just as she’d always intended—suddenly and out here among the beehives. Hennie was always so proud about standing on her own two good feet, and she never wanted to become a burden to anybody. That would have been soul destroying for her, I think.”
“Yes, I think so, too.” Hallie nodded in agreement. “I just wish…I just wish I’d been able to see her again before she died. After Gram sent me away back East, she never let me return here. She invariably claimed it would only anger Great-Aunts Agatha and Edith, but somehow, I always had the oddest notion that that wasn’t the real reason. Still, why Gram would lie to me, I simply can’t imagine.”
“No, neither can I,” Aunt Gwen said firmly. “So I’m sure it was just as Hennie told you, dear. Having taken you in, Aggie and Edie truly would not have been happy about you shuffling back and forth between their house and Hennie’s farm—for the simple reason that they would never have been quite sure just whose side you were really on, as awful as that may sound.”
“Yes…yes, I can understand that. Still, Gram was my grandmother, and I loved her, and after that day she drove me all the way into the city and put me on that plane, I never saw her again. Oh, every year she always claimed she would come visit me, but she never did. I knew she wouldn’t, of course, that she’d never leave this farm. But in later years, after I was grown, I would have been more than glad to make the trip to Meadowsweet, if she hadn’t always had some excuse for putting me off.
“Growing up, I used to think maybe Gram just hadn’t wanted to be bothered with me, because I was a child when Mom died. Then, once I became an adult and realized exactly how much I resemble my mother, I thought maybe Gram simply couldn’t bear to look at me anymore, because I was such a painful reminder to her of her dead daughter.
“But after seeing my childhood bedroom last evening, that it was untouched and looked just the way it did when I left it, I don’t believe either of those things is true. Nor do I understand why, after keeping me away from Meadowsweet for so many years, Gram would will me the farm. Did she mean for me merely to sell it, then, Aunt Gwen, without ever setting foot on the place again?”
“Oh, no, child. I don’t think that was her intention. From all she used to say in that regard, I know Hennie always felt land was the only thing that truly endured and so it should always be passed down to the next generation, come hell or high water, no matter what. So I’m sure that’s why she wanted you to have it, that deep down inside, she hoped you would settle down here and raise a family, just the way she did.”
“But, then, why did she ever send me away in the first place?” Hallie queried, perplexed. “And why keep me away, even after I was grown?”
“I don’t know, Hallie. You’re asking me questions I can’t answer. But whatever Hennie’s reasons may have been, I’m certain they were good ones—and that she loved you dearly, besides. She read your letters time and again, and she had dozens of treasured scrapbooks she’d made over the years, filled with all the pictures you sent her. I’ll show them to you later, if you like. She was so proud of you!”
As she observed the younger woman’s obvious pain and confusion, Aunt Gwen’s wrinkled, weatherbeaten face softened with sympathy and comprehension.
“There is one other thing Hennie did say once, which may be significant, child, and bring you some kind of peace of mind. She said…she said she had failed Rowan…failed to keep her safe, but that at least she hadn’t made that same mistake with you. She said life with Aggie and Edie had made you strong and practical, a survivor, and that in the end, that was just as important as dancing with moonbeams, that she hadn’t ever fully comprehended that before Rowan died.”
Rowan was Hallie’s mother.
“Mom had an accident. She tripped and fell down the stairs in the farmhouse, and broke her neck,” Hallie stated slowly. “Poor, poor Gram. I never knew she felt that way—and it’s not even true, besides! She didn’t fail to keep Mom safe. Mom was a woman grown, with a seven-year-old child of her own, and her death wasn’t Gram’s fault at all. She wasn’t responsible. Why, she wasn’t even home when it happened!
“I was here that day, but Gram wasn’t. She’d gone to the corner market that afternoon. So why she should blame herself for it, I can’t imagine. Maybe Gram thought that if she had been here, she could somehow have prevented Mom’s death. Still, I don’t see how. It was just an accident…a terrible accident, that’s all.
“I can’t even recall much of anything about that day, you know. I’ve tried and tried to remember exactly what occurred, but it’s all still just a blur. I was alone in the house with Mom’s body for quite a while before Gram returned home, and because I was only seven at the time, I guess that must have been a truly traumatic event for me, so I’ve just blocked it all out.”
“Oh, Hallie, it would have been for anybody, dear, but, yes, most especially for a child. Poor Hennie. She must have felt horribly guilty that she wasn’t here when Rowan died—oh, not because she might have been able somehow to save her, because, as you said, what happened to your mother was simply a tragic accide
nt, but because Hennie might have spared you from being alone for so long with your mother’s body.
“Nowadays, in emergencies, young people just pick up their cell phones and dial nine-one-one. But we didn’t used to teach children things like that, and of course, there weren’t any cell phones back then, either—or, at least they weren’t glued to people’s ears, the way they are now.” Aunt Gwen shook her head, frowning a little.
“Anyway, we’re not going to learn the answers to all your questions this morning, child,” she continued. “So let me show you a bit about the bees and how to care for them. Among other things, you must always remember to talk to them and tell them everything, of course! Then we’ll run into Wolf Creek and pick up my belongings from the bed-and-breakfast—at least, I’m hoping you’ll accompany me there. I confess I’ve had just about all I can take on my own of Mrs. Bodine’s lunatic behavior.”
“Of course I’ll go with you, Aunt Gwen. We ought to get some more groceries, and I’ve got to find out what’s happened to the power at the farmhouse, besides. I e-mailed Mr. Winthorpe that it should be turned back on prior to my arrival, but I think he must have forgotten about it, because there wasn’t any last night. If the main bathroom didn’t have those bright sunny windows, I’d have had to take my morning shower in the dark!”
“I wondered why the icebox didn’t seem nearly as cool as it ought to be,” the older woman said. “I turned the temperature inside it down, so it would get colder. I didn’t realize the power was out, and I know it was on yesterday, that it was never actually shut off after Hennie passed away. So there was no need for Mr. Winthorpe to get in touch with the power company.
“The power must have been knocked out by the storm. That sometimes occurs, you know. A fuse winds up being blown in the breaker box—from the lightning, I suppose. I could be wrong, but I don’t think the lightning rods guard against that. I think they’re mainly to prevent the house from being set on fire by a lightning strike. Because the house is so isolated, sits on a hill and has all those soaring cupolas and towers, if it didn’t have the rods, it would be a prime target for lightning.
“As you undoubtedly already know, Hallie, ours are made of good, old-fashioned copper, rather than the aluminum that’s often used nowadays.”
“Yes, I always thought they looked like giant needles, and I never liked them. But now that I’m no longer a child, I realize how necessary they are for protection from the kind of thunderstorm we had last night. Everything’s so bright and peaceful this morning that it’s hard to believe there was such a savage storm last evening. But there’s not a single gray cloud in the sky today.”
“No, it’s a beautiful day,” Aunt Gwen agreed. “Well, I think I’ve shown you just about everything that needs doing for the moment, dear—although I’ve undoubtedly forgotten something and will remember it just as soon as we get into town. But, then, if I can’t recall it now, it surely won’t be anything of much importance.
“Will you do the honors and drive us into Wolf Creek, Hallie? I’m dying to see the inside of your little car. It’s just so cute! It’s one of those new Minis, isn’t it? I remember how popular they were years ago. I guess they’ve made a comeback now, haven’t they?”
“Indeed they have, Aunt Gwen, and I just adore mine, so I’ll be glad to drive us.”
Companionably, the two women strolled back to the farmhouse to scrape the mud from their shoes and to fetch their purses.
As they had earlier observed, it was a gorgeous day. The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky, its countless rays streaming to the earth already filled with heat, promising a steaming afternoon. The land all around the farmhouse was lush and green from its thorough soaking last evening, and it still smelled of rain, clean and fresh.
The house itself, seen in broad daylight, no longer resembled something from a horror movie, but, rather, was a highly impressive example of Victorian architecture, painted in deep shades of blue, green and plum to highlight its many outstanding features. The multitude of flowerbeds clustered around its brick foundation and beyond, in the yard, bloomed in a brilliant riot of color, and butterflies, dragonflies and bees flitted gaily from blossom to blossom.
“You never see anything like this in a city,” Hallie remarked, as, plopping down on the wide wooden verandah, she took off her shoes and began to clean them. “I didn’t realize how much I really missed it all until now.”
“Yes, it’s truly lovely and peaceful here, isn’t it?” Aunt Gwen said. “Still, the sun can grow quite hot and fierce during the summer, so you really ought to have a sun hat, Hallie. Remind me about that when we’re in town, and we’ll stop at the discount store and buy you one. You’ve got such a beautiful complexion that it would be a shame if it wound up all tanned and wrinkled like mine.”
“I don’t believe I’d mind that too much, Aunt Gwen. I’ve never been particularly vain about my looks. As you can no doubt imagine, vanity was one of the many deadly sins Aunt Agatha railed constantly against. I’d originally believed there were only seven, but she had a list quite a bit longer than that.”
“Poor Aggie.” The elderly lady sighed. “I’m sure she wound up as austere as Father because she was the firstborn and so bore the brunt of everything in our household when we were growing up. Edie was the next oldest of us, and I’m certain she would have turned out quite differently if she hadn’t always been under Aggie’s thumb, because there was always a gentle sweetness in her that Aggie never had. Well, I hope they’re both at peace now—and that, wherever they may be, they’ve both made their peace with Hennie, as well.”
On that note, the two women went inside the house, Hallie running barefooted up the stairs to her childhood bedroom to exchange her sturdy shoes for a pair of attractive sandals.
Strangely, when she reached the landing, she felt a sudden, inexplicable chill, as though a goose had just walked over her grave. Then, as light as feather, something brushed against her cheek, sending an icy tingle down her spine.
At first, Hallie thought she had walked into a cobweb, and she raised one hand to dash it away. That was when she spied the pale gray mist drifting across the landing. For a long moment it seemed to her that it bore the shape of the great black wolf and then that of a man. Then, in the next instant, the mist crept stealthily down the stairs to disappear without warning beneath the threshold of the front door, and Hallie couldn’t be certain she had actually seen anything at all beyond a trick of the sunlight streaming in through the upstairs window on the landing.
Still, puzzled and perturbed, she shivered a little as she made her way to her bedroom to grab her sandals. If she didn’t know better, she would think she had just seen some kind of a ghost or something.
She had just gone back downstairs to join Aunt Gwen in the kitchen, for a tall cool glass of lemonade the latter had made, when the front doorbell rang.
“That’s probably Blanche Winthorpe,” the older woman announced. “She told me she was going to drop by sometime today, to be sure you’d got here safely and to see if there was anything you needed.”
“Or, maybe,” Hallie teased, grinning, “it’s that tall, dark, handsome stranger you warned me about when you read my tea leaves.”
“Now, now, I don’t remember issuing a warning—or saying anything about him being tall, dark or handsome, either!” Aunt Gwen insisted, her faded blue eyes filled with merriment and her dimple showing. “So that’s nothing more than wishful thinking on your own part, child!”
“No.” Hallie shook her head, still smiling. “I’m done with men—at least for a while. Besides, if it really is the visitor you promised, he’s probably fat, bald and ugly! That’s just the kind of luck I seem to have these days, you know,” she called back over her shoulder, as she headed toward the main hall.
Still chuckling to herself, she opened the front door wide—only to draw up short, her breath catching in her throat, at the sight that met her suddenly wide green eyes.
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Chapter 6
The Arrival of the Stranger
T he man standing on the farmhouse’s verandah was indeed tall and dark—and quite possibly the handsomest man Hallie had ever seen.
He had shaggy, silky black hair, touched lightly at the sides with silver-gray, and within his tanned visage, a pair of startlingly blue eyes gleamed beneath swooping black eyebrows. An aquiline nose was set above full, carnal lips and a strong, determined jaw, and a thin, jagged scar marred his left cheek, as though sometime in the past, he had become embroiled in a barroom brawl and fallen prey to the blade of his opponent’s knife. His deeply tanned skin had a slight coppery cast to it, as though there were American-Indian blood in him somewhere.
Obviously a man in the prime of his life, he wore a plain black T-shirt from which the short sleeves had been ripped to leave his powerful, muscular arms wholly bare, and the cotton fabric of which stretched tightly across his broad chest and lean waist, revealing not even a single ounce of fat. A pair of snug, button-fly black jeans encased his long, corded legs, and black boots were upon his feet. In one hand, he held a black Stetson hat that had clearly seen better days.
“Ms. Muldoon? Ms. Hallie Muldoon?” the stranger drawled, his voice low and throaty, almost like a growl, as, spying her, he raised one eyebrow inquisitively and somehow provocatively. “My name’s Trace Coltrane. I’ve been doing a lot of work over at Farmer Frank Kincaid’s place, Applewood—” he mentioned the name of a neighboring farm “—but that’s all finished now, and he said as how you had just come back to Wolf Creek and so might be needing some help here at Meadowsweet.
From the Mists of Wolf Creek Page 5
