“Because Carissa’s still in danger, and we don’t know why. We’re collecting data, and your past with Noelle is part of that data. Carissa and Noelle both believe someone close to Carissa is the culprit, and I trust Noelle’s special insight.”
“But Carissa’s only twelve. How can she be connected to something that happened nearly thirty years ago?”
“She’s been researching family history, remember? She’s possibly discovered something damaging to one of the family.”
“You can say that so casually because you’re above suspicion,” Jill said, slumping onto the steps of the gazebo. She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Nathan, how could it have come to this?”
He sat down beside her. “Come to what? If you could just tell us—”
“Okay. Noelle and I need to have a talk. I’ll tell her what I can, but I’m sure it was obvious to you at my house this morning that I’m not up to speed about everything that’s going on around here, either. I hate fighting with my family, but getting information out of Cecil and Melva lately is like trying to suture gelatin.”
“Noelle’s at the Lakeside. Why don’t you go have a talk with her?”
Jill nodded, rubbing her eyes. “Okay. I’ll try. Maybe we can get some things settled.”
Noelle sat on the deck of the Lakeside Bed and Breakfast and gazed across the surface of the water as she ate the last strawberry on her plate. She’d had a few minutes to talk to Bertie before a fresh crowd of diners had descended and Bertie was called into service to replenish the breakfast bar.
A group of teenagers sat at the table next to Noelle, arguing about the type of tackle they’d need to catch their limit of large-mouth bass. A chattering group of female senior citizens carried their trays to the big table at the far end of the deck. Noelle felt lonely, wishing Nathan was with her.
A stillness seemed to hover over the lake. The colors of autumn appeared to have deepened overnight, the beautiful hues of life at the end of its cycle. The sumac bushes flared red against the dull dying green of oak and sycamore, all the colors reflected in the lake.
The cliffs hovered just above the surface of water on the other shore. To Noelle, those cliffs looked comforting, like the welcoming arms of home.
But she didn’t need to be thinking like that.
Her gaze traveled across the lawn and focused on a man and a woman strolling across the grass, deep in conversation. Jill and Nathan. As Noelle watched, they looked her way. She raised her hand in a halfhearted gesture of greeting, then rose to her feet. Time to talk.
She met them as they approached the main lodge of the bed-and-breakfast.
“You’re pale,” Jill said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You?”
“I guess you could say I didn’t take your news well. And I’m worried about you.”
“You’re always worried about me,” Noelle said dryly. “All that stress will send you to an early grave, and then I’ll have more to feel guilty about.”
“Nathan told me to back off a little,” Jill said, glancing at Nathan, who stood beside her looking uncomfortable.
“I think I’ll grab of cup of coffee,” he said. “Why don’t you two take a walk? And keep the shouting down to a bare minimum. Looks like we’re getting a lot of shoppers in town today. Don’t want to scare off business.”
Noelle gave him a mock glare, then turned to her sister. “Let me guess, you want me to stop causing trouble and leave town.”
“I know you don’t understand, but I really would like you to leave, at least for a while.” Jill turned to stroll toward the small church and cemetery down the road.
Noelle fell into step beside her; Jill taking her usual position between Noelle and the road, ever the protector. “You’re right, I don’t understand, and I’m sorry, but I can’t leave.”
“The nightmares you used to have? Do you want them to come back?” Jill asked.
“Good grief, Jill, I’m thirty-six. I’m not going to allow a few nightmares to disturb my life now.”
“I spoke with Greg a while ago. He said Joel’s alibi checked out for Thursday night.”
“He really was in church?” Noelle exclaimed.
Jill dug into her pocket, pulled out a slip of paper and held it out. “Even more shocking, he asked for you to call him. He said he needs to apologize for some things.”
Noelle took the paper and shoved it into her pocket. “I read your old diary.”
There was a long pause. Then: “Actually, it’s a journal.”
“I found it in the same place I found your poem,” Noelle continued. “I didn’t know you had literary leanings. I also didn’t know you were impulsive enough to write something down in a diary that might be damaging to you later.”
By the sudden stillness in Jill’s face, Noelle knew she was upset. “Been a while since you read your old journal, has it?” Noelle couldn’t read her sister’s expression, couldn’t catch a trace of her emotions. Jill hid her reactions well.
“All this talk about being a mature woman, and you still go snooping through your big sister’s private journal like a little girl.” Jill’s attempt at humor failed dismally.
“I told you I found it in the attic. I figured if you weren’t interested enough to take it with you, you wouldn’t mind my reading it.” Noelle hesitated, shaking her head sadly at her sister. “You’ve wanted to keep my gift secret since I was just a little kid. I can’t understand why.”
“Because I always felt these intuitions of yours were wrong. Evil.”
“No, Jill. Nathan has explained some of the differences between godly gifts and the power of evil. I lost my gift when I strayed from God. Now I’m back, and good has already come of it. Carissa’s alive. What was the poem all about? And why did you hit me?”
Jill averted her eyes.
“I keep telling myself you must have had a good reason, and you were young,” Noelle continued, “but there’s never a good reason for slapping a child so hard you bruise her, and you were a teenager, old enough to know better.”
“I was afraid, and I knew of no other way to keep you quiet.”
Noelle spread her hands, unable to look at her sister’s face. “Did Daddy know what—”
“No.” Jill closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then letting it out slowly. “He never knew. He didn’t know anything about you, about the gift. I thought nobody knew. I had to keep it that way.”
“Why?”
“Because not only did I think it was wrong, I was afraid it was dangerous,” Jill said. “And I think I was right. You know that epitaph on Grandpa’s tombstone? The family knew he had the same special abilities you had. Grandpa died young. I’ve always heard from Aunt Pearl that the gifted die young. I didn’t want you to die.”
“You sound like Aunt Pearl. I talked to her last night and she warned me as well.”
“Fine. Call me old-fashioned. I was worried about you.” Jill folded her arms across her chest, face turned from Noelle.
Something about her behavior felt…odd. She was distracted. Or she wasn’t telling the whole truth.
That was it. Honest, blunt Jill was trying to conceal something.
“What about this codicil to the trust that Melva mentioned this morning? What does it say?” Noelle asked.
Jill frowned. “Pearl hasn’t even told you?”
“No. You tell me.”
“First you need to understand why I didn’t want to call you about Carissa…and why I deleted your message on Cecil and Melva’s answering machine.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” Jill said quickly. “By the time I noticed the light blinking and played your message, Carissa was already missing. I knew then that you must have known it supernaturally. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“But Carissa’s life was in danger,” Noelle protested. “I could have helped.”
“I didn’t know that, I thought she might be hiding somewhere. With all that’s been going on lat
ely, all the fighting and tension, I thought she might have gotten fed up and gone to spend the night somewhere, some place we hadn’t looked yet.” Jill raised a hand of entreaty. “I honestly thought that, Noelle. And even while half of me felt guilty for not letting anyone call you, the other half of me remembered what that accident ten years ago did to you. And I remembered all those old stories I used to believe. I’m not sure I don’t still believe them. I tell myself this curse that’s been whispered about for years is a myth, but I know the gift isn’t, because I know you have it, and so I’m afraid for you, even though—”
“Wait a minute. This ‘curse’ is only Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, what Justin has. It’s not dangerous.”
“When I was growing up, the problem wasn’t understood the way it is now. Grandpa saw it as a dangerous mental illness, a curse on the Cooper family, because one of our ancestors was so affected by it she became a recluse and never threw anything away—old newspapers, magazines, paper bags, boxes. Her house, packed with all the trash she’d been unable to toss over the years, caught fire and burned with her in it. The flames were so fierce they caught three other houses on fire, killing two other people.”
The memory of Justin’s actions this morning struck Noelle afresh. “Okay, I can understand why someone might leap to that conclusion in the past, but now we know that the disorder can be controlled by behavior modification and medical intervention. Why is it still such a big deal?”
“Because of the codicil.”
Noelle stopped and turned to her sister. “What do you mean?”
“No one with the symptoms of the illness is allowed to control Cooper property. They can’t own the land, they can’t work it. Family members with OCD are left out in the cold if anyone finds out about it.”
“That’s crazy!”
“Exactly. There’s a curse on our family, but it isn’t OCD, it’s that vile codicil.”
Noelle caught her sister’s arm. “Would you come to Pearl’s with Nathan and me? She doesn’t know what’s going on, and I need to tell her. Maybe the four of us can talk this over. Pearl knows more about family history than anyone. Maybe she can shed some light on this for us.”
Jill hesitated, glancing back toward the bed-and-breakfast. “Why do you need me? You and Pearl have always been closer.”
“But you and Pearl both tended to shelter me. Maybe with you there she’ll be more forthcoming. We need more information.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pearl was working in her garden when Nathan and Noelle drove up to the front gate, with Jill behind them in her SUV. Aunt Pearl dusted the dirt from the knees of her jeans and removed her gardening gloves.
“Looks like I’ve got some company!” she called with apparent delight as she strolled across the yard, gesturing toward the house. “How about some sassafras tea? Then you all can fill me in on what’s up with Carissa.”
Noelle recognized the reluctance on Jill’s face as the three of them followed Pearl up the steps and onto her front porch. Ever since her mom’s death, she had felt like a prize in a contest, pulled between her sister and her great-aunt, each believing she knew what had been best for Noelle.
Noelle glanced over her shoulder at Nathan, caught his wink and reassuring grin and knew he was remembering, too. It helped ease some of her tension.
Pearl’s house hadn’t changed in the past ten years, except for the fading paint on the exterior and the encroaching forest that had been allowed to creep to within two feet of the flagstone porch.
The large front room was packed with drying tables that held herbs, roots and blossoms. Pearl led the way into the kitchen, where the counters were completely covered with packaged herbs and bottles of homemade cough elixir.
“Health-food store in Branson buys just about all the herbs your store doesn’t buy these days, Noelle,” Pearl told her, “but I keep enough around here for the neighbors when the docs in town can’t figure out the problem.” She shot Jill a challenging glance. “Those who’ll use it, who don’t think it’s just a bunch of superstition.”
Jill’s brows arched. “Aunt Pearl, I can’t believe you said that. Didn’t I let you treat me for that cough last spring with those elm leaves?”
“Slippery elm,” Pearl said dryly.
“Well, it worked, and you made a believer out of me.”
“Oh, really? So you’re not still telling all your patients about how conventional medicine’s the only good medicine?”
“I’ve never said that…exactly.”
“Good.” Pearl turned on the burner beneath a kettle on the stove. “Maybe you’re getting smarter, Jill. Remember the time you caught me doctoring Noelle’s skinned knee outside the sawmill? You were just a little thing, but I thought I had a wildcat ahold of me.” She glanced at Noelle and Nathan. “Knocked me down the mill steps.”
“I was twelve,” Jill said. “Mom scolded me about it, and I never lived it down, so will you lighten up? I told you I was sorry at least a dozen times.”
Pearl chuckled and shook her head. “Sit down, kids.” She pointed to the long, wooden table. “I’ll make that hot tea instead of iced. It’ll calm you, and it looks like you need calming. So how’s our girl? Is Cis coming home today?”
“Not yet,” Noelle said, glancing at her sister.
Jill raised an eyebrow, and Noelle read her meaning. No way was Jill going to tell Pearl about the bombshell that Noelle and Nathan had dropped on the family this morning.
“She can’t be that bad.” Pearl eased herself into a chair at the table with a groan. “She was chattering up a storm last night when I saw her.”
“She’s going to be fine,” Nathan said. “But there’s reason to believe she wasn’t just lost. Someone chased her down the lane to the sawmill, then carried her to that cave.”
Pearl’s hand flew to her chest, her heavy frown deepening the lines of her face. She studied Nathan for a long moment, as if she might see something in his expression that he didn’t want revealed. “Carissa wouldn’t be letting that wild imagination of hers get a little out of hand?”
“No, Aunt Pearl,” Noelle said. “Someone abducted her. Our climbing rope was taken while we were in the cave. It was someone close to her. Possibly someone in our family.” She hesitated. “Most likely someone in our family.”
“Do you know that—” Pearl leaned forward, fixing Noelle with a sharp look “—in here?” She tapped Noelle’s forehead. “Or in here?” She tapped Noelle’s chest.
Noelle placed her hand on her heart. Pearl leaned back and closed her eyes. The tea kettle whistled, but Pearl didn’t seem to hear it. Jill got up and switched off the burner.
“Noelle, I warned you about this,” Pearl said. “You shouldn’t even be here. You’ve found Carissa, now you need to get away. And if Cecil and Melva will let you, take Carissa with you.”
“You know that won’t happen.” Jill took cups down from the shelf and poured hot sassafras tea into them.
Nathan added a drop of honey to his tea and stirred it. “Pearl, you’re here all the time. What do you see going on?”
“Not much,” she said, giving Jill a long look. “Nobody listens to me much anymore. They’ve got all their new ideas, computerized programs, fancy equipment. Did you know we’re all incorporated now?”
“It needed to be done,” Jill said. “It’s just too big an operation for one man to control.”
“One man doesn’t control it,” Pearl said quietly. “Don’t forget who has veto power.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, then Nathan cleared his throat. “Pearl, has anyone in your family spoken much about the accident at the mill ten years ago?”
Another silence fell. Pearl stared at the table for a few long moments, then looked up at Nathan. “What about it?”
“Were you convinced it was an accident?”
She looked down again. “The sheriff checked it out himself.”
“I know, but I’ve never been satisfied with the explanat
ion. Have you?”
She shrugged, still staring at the table. “They said there was a malfunction with the locking mechanism on one of the chains holding the logs in place.”
“I know what they said. Someone who worked there at the time said he checked that mechanism at least twenty times afterward, and there was no malfunction. It worked perfectly every time.”
“Then maybe the loggers didn’t fasten it right in the first place.”
“It’s possible,” Nathan said. “But I don’t believe that. I know Harry Mitchell, and he’s one of the most careful loggers in the Ozarks. That was a valuable load of lumber—Harry personally locked those chains that day. I asked.”
Pearl looked up at him, startled. “Sounds like you’ve done a lot of investigating already.”
“I’m beginning to think I haven’t done enough.”
“Well, it’s a pretty sure bet we’re not going to dig up any more evidence this far along in the game,” Pearl said.
Nathan leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Pearl, Noelle told me about the codicil to the trust on the way out here. Who added that?”
“My daddy, Joseph Senior, Noelle’s great-grandpa. He never was a very compassionate man—if you’ll excuse me for talkin’ ill about the dead. I just hope Cecil doesn’t develop the same tendencies, although it looks as if he’s treating Justin the same way his own dad was treated.”
Jill carefully placed her teacup in the saucer and stood. “I need to get back to town,” she said, leaning over to give Noelle a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “Forgive me for being such a bully, Sis?”
“If you’ll forgive me for being such a brat to you when I was growing up.”
“You got it.”
With a final pat on Noelle’s shoulder, Jill walked out the door. Noelle heard her pull it shut until it latched, then start down the steps. Through the window, Noelle watched Jill cross the porch, stop, turn and walk back to grasp the knob and push. When the door remained closed she nodded, satisfied, and left again.
It was a familiar gesture, and Noelle caught her breath. She suddenly remembered numerous other incidents through the years that she’d never before realized had significance.
Last Resort Page 20
