The Widows of Braxton County
Page 21
Will’s face flushed. “How did you find out about that?”
“I found an old newspaper article written about her arrest. Was she convicted?”
“No,” he spit out.
“Then what happened to her? What’s the big secret?” she persisted.
“You’re talking about an event that occurred over a century ago, and it’s one that some have never let go. Maybe if they had, lives would have been different.”
“If it happened so long ago, then why can’t you tell me?” she asked. “I could ask Trudy if you won’t.”
“I wouldn’t. You won’t like her reaction.” His voice dropped. “It will only upset her. Do you want to risk another stroke?”
“Of course not.”
“Forget about Jacob and Hannah.” Noting the defiance in her face, he exhaled slowly. “Look, Willie was only a child when Jacob died, and he adored his mother. Her arrest changed the course of his life, and as an adult, he never spoke of it. My family has always respected that.”
“You’re telling me that in all this time, your family has never discussed Hannah?” she asked, amazed.
“There’s no point. The past can’t be changed.” He gave her a careful look. “I think you’d be better off focusing on today and what might happen tomorrow.”
Will’s words echoed as Kate sat down with Trudy and Joe’s attorney, Mr. Tolliver. Eyeing him from across the table, Kate was reminded of a partridge. He was plump and brown. He had thinning brown hair and brown eyes. His suit was brown—he even wore a shirt that was tan.
After reading all the conditions of the will, he sat back, looked first at Kate, then Trudy. “Do you understand everything we’ve gone over thus far?”
Trudy gave Kate a sour look. “Sure. She gets everything.”
“Now, Trudy, that’s not true,” he answered in a condescending voice. “You’re the beneficiary of one of his life insurance policies. Then there’s the money he paid you for your share of the farm when your husband died.” He smiled. “You’ve been taken care of quite handsomely.” He focused on Kate. “Do you have any questions?”
“What happens next?”
“Well,” he said slowly as he gathered up the papers spread across the table. “First we have to file the will, then we’ll need to do an inventory of all the assets.” He smiled again. “Once the will has finished probate, you’ll be ready to start liquidating.”
Trudy’s attention traveled around the room, settling on one heirloom at a time. Mr. Tolliver noticed.
He reached across the table and patted her hand. “I’m sure Kate will be willing to give you those things that have a special sentimental value, Trudy. She won’t sell them.”
“Excuse me?” Kate asked.
“Once the probate is finished, we’ll start making arrangements for the farm and estate sale.”
“I didn’t mention selling out,” Kate replied.
He appeared flustered. “Managing a farm is a big responsibility and you have no experience. I assumed you’d want to liquidate and return to your family . . . Des Moines, isn’t it?”
“Rose Clement manages her operation.”
“But Rose has been farming all of her life,” he said with a patronizing smile.
“And she’s willing to help me. We’ve already discussed it.”
Mr. Tolliver made a tut-tutting noise. “Really, Kate, I think that would be very foolish. As it stands now, you can walk away financially secure for the rest of your life. If you persist in this, you will be risking your future.”
“Isn’t that true of anyone who runs a business?”
“Yes.” He shoved the papers back in his briefcase and stood. “If you really want to become a businesswoman, why don’t you open . . . say, a craft shop? You’d have more success in a venture like that than running a farm.”
Kate’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to run a craft shop. I want to run this farm, and I’ve already made a detailed business plan.”
He shook his head slowly. “It’s highly unlikely that you’ll succeed,” he said.
Kate handed him his briefcase. “I appreciate your concern, but I believe according to the terms of the will, this is my decision to make and I’ve made it.” She shook his hand and steered him toward the front door. “Start the probate and we’ll go from there.”
When she returned after escorting Mr. Tolliver out the door, she found Trudy wandering around the parlor, straightening pillows and fussing over the framed photographs of long-dead Krauses.
She wiped one of the photos with the corner of her apron. “What are you going to do about me?”
“I’m not going to do anything about you,” Kate replied, leaning against the door frame. “Let’s be honest. The only thing that tied us together was Joe and he’s gone now.”
Trudy swiveled toward her. “I knew it,” she exclaimed. “You’re going to kick me out of my home.”
“No, I’m not. I have to live in this house until everything is settled, but after that?” She shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, you can stay here as long as you want. I’ll find a place in town, or build a small house for myself.”
She saw the doubt in Trudy’s face. “You can believe me. I don’t know if it’s a good idea, considering your health, if you live alone, but that’s your choice. You do have enough money to hire help now.”
“Well,” Trudy said, crossing her arms over her chest, “I don’t believe you. You married Joe to get this farm.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “That’s absurd. The first time I ever set foot on this place was the day after our wedding.” She looked toward the window. The sun was sinking lower, but she still had enough daylight to till the garden. That sounded like a better plan than standing here and listening to Trudy.
Without a word, Kate ran upstairs and changed into a pair of old jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of old shoes. Fifteen minutes later, she’d pulled the tiller out of the machine shed and was trying to figure out how to start it. Once she did, the machine bucked to life, startling her, and she lost her grip on the power bar.
She pulled her hand through her hair. “Okay,” she muttered, “I can do this.”
Adjusting her grip and tightening her grasp, she tried again. This time the tiller’s tines dug into the black earth, churning it up. Slowly, she pushed the tiller ahead until she reached the other side of the garden. Stopping, she pivoted the machine and began to till a second strip across the garden.
Forty-five minutes later she’d finished. A fine layer of grit covered her face, her shoes were filled with dirt, and her clothes were filthy. The tracks she’d made in the turned-over soil weren’t straight; they waved from side to side. But the garden was tilled.
Pleased with herself, she pushed the tiller back to the garage. She’d shown Trudy and she’d show Mr. Tolliver.
After Kate’s shower, supper with Trudy had been a dull affair. They’d eaten in stony silence, and Kate had been relieved when Trudy had retreated to her bedroom. Trudy hadn’t commented on her newly tilled garden.
Now Kate sat with an afghan wrapped snugly around her, moving slowly back and forth on the front-porch swing. Mr. Tolliver’s warning had made her all the more determined to succeed. She thought about the coming months. She had challenges ahead and things to look forward to with anticipation—her job at Doc’s, managing the farm, volunteering at Essie’s House. It might not be the life she had planned, but it could be fulfilling.
A sliver of pain lifted from her heart.
A set of headlights coming down the road drew her attention. She watched it pull into the driveway and was surprised when she recognized the driver.
Will.
Joining her on the porch, he eyed the front door. “Is Trudy around?” he asked warily.
“She’s in her room,” Kate replied with a small chuckle.
“Whew.” Will made a big show of wiping imaginary sweat off his forehead. “I wouldn’t want to find myself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.”
“I’d like to apologize,” he answered earnestly as he sat. “I know I was short-tempered at the store today.”
Kate thought for a moment. “I should be the one to apologize. Hannah is your ancestor, not Joe’s, and I shouldn’t pry into your family’s past.”
Will gave her a small nod of acknowledgment. “Friends again?”
Kate smiled. “Friends.”
Will propped one leg on his knee. “I heard a rumor today—”
“No,” Kate exclaimed with mock surprise.
He chuckled. “I heard you weren’t selling out and had plans to stick around.”
“You must’ve talked to Rose.”
“Nope—chatter at the Four Corners.”
“What do you know?” Kate said, slapping her knee. “For once they got it right.”
“You’re staying?”
She nodded. “I have a business plan started, but I don’t think there’s much I can do until the estate is settled.”
“You’re going to run the farm.”
“I’m going to try.” Kate leaned forward. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”
“No. I think you’re smart and can do anything that you set your mind to.”
“I bet that wasn’t the opinion at the café.”
“Ahh—no.” Will gave her a rueful smile. “Albert Forsyth gave you two years before you lost everything.”
“He sounds like Mr. Tolliver,” she said, leaning her head against the back of the swing. “He wasn’t very supportive either.”
“Why do you want to do this, Kate?”
She lifted her head and looked at him while tucking the blanket around her legs. “Various reasons, but I guess I need to prove something.”
“To your grandmother?”
Kate jerked forward. “Hell no,” she declared, “to myself. All my life, I’ve been told I couldn’t and now I want to prove I can.” She spread her hands wide. “If I fail, at least I gave it a shot. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.” Will rubbed the arms of the chair. “When I got out of college, I didn’t think I wanted to join Dad at the hardware store. The economy’s tough for small retailers, so I decided to play it safe and work for a chain store.” He frowned. “Hated every minute of it.”
“Why?”
“I found it to be all about the hustle and how the store could stay ahead of the competition.” He lifted one shoulder. “I like a slower lifestyle and giving customers the personal touch. The store is never going to turn a huge profit, but that’s okay. I’d rather enjoy my life than make a lot of money.”
“Ahh, so you don’t want to be the ‘Hardware King of Northwest Iowa’?” Kate teased.
“Nope,” he answered easily. “At one time, I might have had that grand ambition, but things change.” He looked at Kate with a solemn expression. “I don’t have to point that out to you.”
“No, you don’t,” she answered softly.
They were both silent as they listened to the rhythmic creak of the porch swing.
Kate was the first to speak. “Your life changing doesn’t mean it’s over, does it? Happiness can still be found, can’t it?”
“I think so. It might be different, feel different, than what you expected, but it’s still a form of happiness.”
Kate sighed and let the night and a sense of peace wrap around her.
Chapter 35
Kate bolted up in bed. The sense of peace she’d felt as she’d fallen asleep had vanished. A scream? Had she heard a scream? Grabbing her robe, she threw it on as she shoved her feet into her slippers and ran to the window. She pulled back the curtains and stared out into the darkness.
A harvest moon hung in the sky like a huge golden ball, illuminating the landscape. A figure moved between the apple orchard and the old cabin. Were kids stealing pumpkins? Kate ran from the room to check on Trudy.
The door to her room was closed as usual, and Kate flung it open. A wave of cold air slapped her in the face. Rubbing her arms, then turning on the light, she checked the bed. Empty. She crossed to the window. Shut. On her way through the kitchen, she snatched a flashlight from the counter then headed out the door. The figure still moved through the apple orchard. Kate flicked on the light and shone it toward the figure.
Like a deer caught in the headlights, Trudy froze. She was dressed in an old robe, with her thin hair straggling over her shoulders.
With a shake of her head, Kate went to her.
“It’s too late to be wandering out here in the dark,” Kate said, reaching out for Trudy’s arm.
She skittered away, her feet shuffling in the fallen leaves. “I can’t find it,” she muttered.
“Find what?”
“The music box,” she said as she bent and brushed away the leaves at her feet. “I think she took it.”
Oh God, she’s got it in her head Gran stole it.
Kate laid a hand on her shoulder. “Gran didn’t take your music box,” Kate said in a calm voice. “Remember you took it back to your bedroom.”
Trudy straightened and gave her a sneer. “Not her,” she answered in a voice that hinted at Kate’s stupidity. “Hannah. The music box was Willie’s and she doesn’t want me to have it.”
In the light of the moon, Kate saw Trudy’s lips tighten in a mutinous line.
“But it’s mine. Joe’s grandfather gave it to me. He said he couldn’t trust that worthless man I married to hold the secret.”
Kate felt like slapping her forehead in frustration. “Trudy,” she said, trying to cut through the fog in Trudy’s mind, “Hannah’s been dead a long time.”
“You never have understood, have you?” Trudy asked with a sneer.
“Understand what? That you’re convinced the family’s cursed? Yeah,” Kate said sternly, “I do . . . Heaven knows you’ve told me about it often enough. I get it about Jacob roaming the earth, too.”
“Ha,” Trudy exclaimed, wagging a finger in Kate’s face. “Shows how much you know. It’s not Jacob, it’s her. It’s Hannah. She cursed this family and won’t rest until we’ve all paid.”
Kate took a deep breath and tried to gentle her voice. “Come on. Let’s go inside. It’s late and you should be in bed.”
Trudy moved farther away. “I want my music box.” Suddenly she whirled toward Kate with her eyes wide. “It’s you,” she cried. “ ‘The sins of the father.’ You brought this down on us. I told Joe you were like her, but he wouldn’t listen.” Her face crumpled. “Now he’s dead just like Jacob.”
“Trudy . . . please.”
She seemed to shrink before Kate’s eyes as she began to shuffle toward the house. “Hannah’s won,” she said, defeated.
Kate followed her into the house, but instead of heading for her bedroom, Trudy made for the parlor.
“I think you should go to bed now,” Kate called after her.
“I’m not sleeping in there—not tonight.”
“But you like your room.”
“I’m not sleeping with a dead man.”
Kate ran her fingers through her hair. “There’s no a dead man in your room.”
“Yes, there is,” she replied, casting a wild look at Kate over her shoulder. “Jacob—that’s where she stabbed him.”
With a groan, Kate returned to the kitchen and called Doc Adams.
While taking her shower the next morning, Kate let the hot water pound onto her tense shoulders. The episode with Trudy worried her.
Doc had been concerned, but not overly. In his opinion, Trudy was beginning to show signs of dementia. He’d suggested taking her to the hospital, but Trudy refused to go. By the time he’d finished his examination, she was no longer acting odd. He had warned Kate that these episodes might continue, and if she was determined to keep Trudy here, alarms should be installed on all the doors.
What should I do? Kate turned and let the water cascade over her face
. It wasn’t a problem to install the alarms; she’d pick them up today at the hardware store. But she didn’t know how to handle Trudy’s fixation with Hannah. Trudy had insisted Hannah had murdered Jacob, but everyone claimed that the killer had never been convicted. Did Trudy’s obsession stem from what she felt was a miscarriage of justice?
“Stop it,” Kate muttered to herself as she shut off the faucets. Will was right. She grabbed a towel and furiously dried off her body. She had enough to worry about without dwelling on the past.
Wrapping the towel around her, Kate stepped out of the shower and crossed to the sink. She picked up a hand towel to wipe the steam off the mirror, then stopped, the towel slipping from her fingers.
One word . . . DANGER . . . was written on the foggy mirror.
Kate cleaned the mirror in two angry swipes. She was beginning to suspect that Trudy was playing tricks on her. The confusion, the preoccupation with the music box and with Hannah—Trudy could be putting on an act in order to drive Kate out of the house.
“Humph,” she grumbled as she pulled a comb through her wet hair. “We’ll see about that.”
She hadn’t given Trudy the satisfaction of acknowledging the stunt pulled with the mirror. Kate dressed and left for the hardware store without engaging in a conversation.
It did trouble her, and she was not concentrating on her driving. She hit the brakes as a car turned in front of her, throwing everything in the backseat of the Jeep to the floor. Then as she approached the four-way stop at the edge of Dutton, she failed to come to a complete stop and rolled through the intersection. The next thing she knew, she heard the wail of a siren and saw the flash of lights in her rearview mirror.
Kate felt like pounding her head on the steering wheel as she pulled off onto the shoulder and came to a stop. Great—now she’d have a ticket. After turning off the ignition, Kate fumbled in her purse for her driver’s license, then removed her proof of insurance and her registration from the glove compartment. She couldn’t understand what was taking the officer so long to approach her car, and glanced up into the rearview mirror. When he finally did walk toward her, she noticed his right hand lingered in the vicinity of his weapon.