by Mary Deal
Chapter 14
Sara spent sleepless nights with her cell phone attached to its charger, left on, and in plain view on the nightstand. Life in the Delta had changed drastically from what she remembered and it definitely put a cloud over what she had hoped to accomplish upon returning.
The next day, while the contractor's crew worked, she stood at the upstairs landing looking out the window toward the levee. Though the groundhog had seen its shadow in February, the trees in her front yard showed signs of preparing to usher in spring. Spring, with its offer of renewal, had taken hold of her too. Everything she had recently accomplished kept her thoughts humming. A sensation of freedom came over her like she had never known.
As a teenager, freedom and getting out of the house usually meant sitting in the car to baby-sit her very active younger sister, while her parents sat in a bar for three or four hours. Only a few minutes, they always said. We'll be right back. The idle promises haunted her.
That was when she realized how much Starla loved to sing. Starla would stand on her knees in the front seat looking back at her in the rear seat trying to finish some homework. Starla would pretend to be a star on stage. She would sing and try to dance. Dancing on the ragged upholstered seat was nearly impossible and she would fall with a grunt. Sara always encouraged Starla to get up and keep trying. To see her sister's eyes sparkle when someone had faith in her made Sara want to give and give to that little girl with all her heart.
Neither was it freedom living without her family after the accident while she finished school. Her first taste of freedom came when she moved to Puerto Rico and didn't speak the language and couldn't get a job. Freedom was being all on her own, finally doing anything she wished, the bigger the challenge the better, as long as she had Starla's photos for company.
Now, freedom in the Delta meant completely overcoming her fear of driving the levee roads. Too, despite the sleazy watering hole tavern her parents favored having been torn down, she needed to know what it was like to pass a Delta bar or tavern without feeling like screaming.
Freedom was having time to notice the flocks and myriad species of migrating birds and people on horseback exercising the animals. She wanted to explore the several flooded islands that had been returned to wetlands similar to when the Miwok Indians hunted the area. She longed to get into a boat and slice through the rivers and explore, and wondered if she was too old to learn to water ski, something she had never—
“Sara,” the contractor said, interrupting her reverie. “I need to explain about this wall down here.”
A set of blueprints from the Talbot era was included with the escrow documents. Almost daily, contractors and an architect scurried in and about the building in preparation for the restoration.
“From here to there,” the contractor said, describing the wall to come down.
After assuring herself it was a necessary change to make, Sara gave the go ahead.
Sara confined her working hours on the computer to the evenings. The contractor had keys and could enter with his men when she wasn't home during the daytime. The only personal valuable items were in the one room she occupied. Other items of value throughout the house were the original wall sconces, the claw foot bathtub, and all the beveled glass windows and fine woodwork throughout. The final reconstruction plans had yet to be approved by the County. That could take weeks.
Esmerelda called several times since the last body was found at Stone Lake to speculate why the investigators had not released the identity. Then, finally, she said, “I've got to stop kidding myself. Orson may never be found. They stopped looking up there in the Placer hills long ago when the search parties turned up nothing.”
That may have been the first time Esmerelda openly faced the truth about her husband. Sara wondered why Esmerelda's former friends hadn't rallied to her support. Esmerelda seemed to have no one with whom to share her hopes and fears. She talked little about people from her days of social functions and partying. That meant those people had, most likely, dropped out of her life, perhaps when she began talking about the ghost.
Sara's cell phone rang. “What's up, Daph?”
“Hey, I wanted to find this information on the Net before I told you about Esmerelda's daughter.”
“A daughter? She has a—”
“Had a daughter. I didn't want to gossip. Wanted you to read about it.”
“Hey, we never kept secrets,” Sara said, smiling into the phone. Then she realized what Daphine had said. “What do you mean, 'had'?”
“It explains a little about Esmerelda too. She used to be a nurse.”
“So that's why she owns a hospice.”
“Yep. Her daughter was a nurse too. Listed as MIA in Vietnam.”
Sara felt a great surge of sympathy for Esmerelda. “What made you look for information on the Net?” Sara hurriedly made her way downstairs to her computer as they talked.
“Heard the story ages ago. Didn't want to tell you right away. Thought you might want to get to know Esmerelda first.” Sara could imagine Daphine shrugging her shoulders as she usually did when speaking seriously. “You should read about it for yourself on the Web site.”
Sara waited with pen in hand. “What's the URL?”
“I emailed you the link. Some guy, another nurse, came back from the war and said he was with Betty—that's Esmerelda's daughter—when a group of them were captured. They were marched for weeks through the jungle and, one by one, got sick and dropped. Betty didn't make it.”
Sara remembered the many horrific stories that particular war produced. “And now they can't find the spot where they left her laying, right?”
“Till they do, Betty's an MIA.”
After hanging up, Sara booted the computer, clicked on the link, and read. Esmerelda had not one dear person missing, but two. Her stamina and ability to carry on despite compounded tragedy was something Sara understood completely. A missing daughter explained Esmerelda treating both her and Daphine like her own. Esmerelda was old enough, and they young enough, and all three bonded the day they got together.
Then Sara viewed a string of photos of Betty Talbot, some with several people, and a couple of close-ups by herself. Sara's hand began to shake over the keyboard. “That wasn't Esmerelda with light-colored hair,” she said out loud. One of the close-ups was the same photo that sat on Esmerelda's sideboard.
Chapter 15
The next day, Sara and the contractor were upstairs discussing changes for the added bathroom that the County Planning Department rejected. As they moved into another room, Sara heard the crunch of gravel and peered out a window overlooking the driveway.
A young Mexican man wearing blue work clothes got out of the light green Jaguar sedan and scampered around to the passenger side. He opened the door and took hold of a hand. Esmerelda had arrived. After opening a rear door, Choco and Latte scampered out yapping. Then out came Mimie. Esmerelda's raven hair blew in the strong wind as she looked back and forth the length of the building and then shook her head. The young Mexican man laughed a lot as he scampered after the pups that led him on a zigzag traipse up the driveway.
By the time Sara hurried outside, Choco and Latte had run, barking and yapping, far out into the backfield as if they were on a mission. Sara ran too. The pups could get lost in the fields. After several stern commands, only then did the pups respond. They stopped, but paced like they might keep running toward the ditch. She and the young Mexican caught them and returned to the yard. He ran back to the Jaguar to bring the leashes. Sara found Esmerelda inside the empty workshop. Once inside the shop, Choco and Latte began to whine.
“I miss my husband.” Esmerelda dabbed at her eyes. “I always feel closer to him when I think of the plans we had for this place.”
“Is this the first time you've been back here?” Sara wanted to hug and comfort Esmerelda but it seemed that woman always made sure she stood on her own two feet.
“Oh, no. Those last owners were friendly and even asked me
to help with their remodeling plans.”
“Why didn't they finish?”
“Because of Orson. They saw his ghost. They didn't believe in such things, but the spirit kept bothering them till they got spooked and decided to leave.” The house stood empty for nearly five years till Sara bought it, enough time for a few people to say they saw a light floating around inside.
Choco and Latte paced the lengths of their leashes and returned, only to do it again and again.
“What's up, babies?” Esmerelda asked as she bent down to pet them.
Choco sat, barked, and stared up at them and thumped the floor hard with his tail. Latte stood on hind legs as if trying to see out the front window. Then she sniffed along the base of the wall and pawed at the floor, finally laying down and scooting around on her back. Their distinct personalities were clearly evident.
“Maybe they know,” Esmerelda said. “I took a deposit on the pups from a young couple in Sacramento.”
“You sold them?”
“I hope so. The couple lives in a tiny apartment but they're building a house in a brand new subdivision. They're paying me to board the dogs now.”
Latte whined and rolled over onto her back again and scooted around.
“Let's take them into the house,” Sara said. “Maybe they'll calm down inside.”
Esmerelda was able to give a lot of additional information to the contractor that Sara would never have known. She enjoyed herself, as if she were the one refurbishing. She threw herself into the moment and followed the contractor around and Sara let her be. The young Mexican, Demetrio, was surprised that Sara spoke Spanish. Still, he refused to enter the house but accepted a soda and a hearty sandwich and chips, which he devoured out on the covered back steps despite wind and some blowing rain. Finally, he went to sleep in the car.
Over lunch, Sara realized that Esmerelda wore no earrings, necklaces, or bracelets. She always dressed quite nicely and a woman of her stature and bold personality might wear more jewelry.
“The rest is in the safe deposit in Walnut Grove,” Esmerelda said, as if reading Sara's mind. “Most of it, anyway.”
“You never show it off?”
“I don't go out much anymore.” She was afraid of theft too. She had found some pieces missing. “Don't know if it happened here at Talbot House or at the hospice.” She kept most of it in one big jewelry box, but any of it could have been lying throughout the house. “Long after I moved, that's when I noticed some pieces missing.”
Surely she could not have lost more due to slipping off her fingers in the cold. “Only rings?”
“No, as a matter of fact,” Esmerelda said. “Orson made a pendant for me. Melted his gold and made one good-sized nugget and set two diamonds in it. One for each of us.” She was quiet a moment as she touched her chest where the pendant might hang. “Imagine that. Melting down raw nuggets to make a nugget pendant. But, it's missing.” She held up her right hand. “This is one of Orson's creations.” She twirled the sparkling band around her finger.
Sara could only sit and listen to this woman who needed a friend and who desperately needed closure.
“I used to attend a social activity every evening. It's what got me through the time when Orson went missing.” She paused and seemed to sink deeper into her memories. “When I realized he wasn't coming back….”
“You need to socialize now. More than ever.”
“Well, I have my dogs. Although I think I made a mistake by taking the pups.”
The pups were confined mostly indoors because Tripp didn't want them around. Though determined and spry, Esmerelda was elderly and three dogs surely too much responsibility. A serial killer in the area was a frightening scenario, especially for Sara, living alone in such a big empty house. Sara put down roots and meant to stay no matter what threatened. She could surely baby-sit a couple of puppies once in a while. Pit bulls being seen around her property could be a deterrent, especially for anyone snooping around and making those noises during the night that she had yet to identify. “I can help with the pups.” Almost immediately, she realized she should have thought more about it first. “Once in a while,” Sara said, hoping it sounded less permanent. “It would give you a break.”
A look of relief came over Esmerelda's face. “Wish those kids could take the pups now. Most people don't want pit bulls. You ever had a pet?”
“A Yorkie.” Sara remembered that Mandy had been great company, and how empty she felt when her pet of sixteen years died in her sleep on the bed beside her.
“You can't leave pit bulls behind when you need to go out,” Esmerelda said. “They're potty trained and all, but this type dog, in particular, would tear up your house.”
Pit bulls should be watched to see how they expressed their inbred nature. Mandy was trained and heeled well and was never on a leash unless absolutely necessary. These two feisty pups should always be leashed when outdoors, simply because of pit bull temperaments. Puppies were supposed to be exposed to as many people, places, and things as feasibly possible by the time they are twelve weeks old. Surely, Esmerelda had not been able to do that much despite trainers working with them.
Chapter 16
“One of our patients passed away suddenly,” Esmerelda said on the phone a week later. “Her family's begun an investigation.”
“A what?” Sara asked. Sadly, people relegated to hospices were expected to die. A hospice was last resort for the incurable.
“They believe she could have lasted a lot longer.”
“That's ludicrous.”
“They're investigating why she died.” Esmerelda's frustrated sigh came through the phone. “We don't just kill people off because they're terminal.”
Sara couldn't allow herself to become involved. She could help Esmerelda another way. “Let me keep the pups overnight,” she said.
“Could you really do that?” Esmerelda never asked for favors, but she knew an opportunity when it was offered. “Tomorrow's Easter. When you bring the dogs back, plan to have dinner with me.”
Driving to Esmerelda's, the spring sunlight dazzled. The pear trees were in blossom and honeybees buzzed. Sara lowered the window. She had not paid much attention to flora and fauna when she was younger, except when the pear trees were in bloom.
Pears, especially Bartlett, were a huge part of the crop market of the Delta. Bartlett trees would keep producing each year till after they were one hundred years old. If too many pears began to grow each season, some would be removed to allow the rest to fully mature. From the look of the flower-laden branches, the thinning phase promised to be a busy one. The fragrance emitted by those delicate white flowers blanketing the orchards completely merged with the air. It brought back memories of long past spring times when she always felt renewed. She kept the window down and sniffed the air again and again as she drove. This was one pleasurable memory she would enjoy forever. She began to feel like she was finally home again and the river didn't seem as threatening.
As she maneuvered along the levee, viewing the expanse of crop fields and orchards, houses loomed intermittently on the horizon, then surged past. Each had its chance to make a statement as to its grandeur or neglect, before the blankets of green fields blended together again toward the horizon.
At River Hospice, she backed in toward Esmerelda's garage in order to load the dog carriers. Tripp was out washing his old pickup truck.
“Washes it even if it doesn't need it,” Esmerelda said. “Keeps it tuned too. Runs errands for me all over the Delta.”
Sara always kept her back seats folded down in anticipation of hauling some new piece of furniture or other large item. As they loaded the SUV, Tripp scurried over to lend a hand.
“Hello there, perty Miss Sara.”
He had some nerve. Sara pinched her lips together. His interest made her gag. She turned to face him. “Tripp, my name is Sara. You don't need to tack anything else onto it.”
“Oh!” he said, as if he thought her too uppity. He gave
her a look that sliced through her, and then turned and headed back to his truck.
During the few minutes she and Esmerelda finished preparing the dogs for the ride, Tripp glanced over several times. He shrugged affectedly as he swiped soapsuds over the hood and talked to himself and waggled his head from side to side.
“Don't be too hard on him,” Esmerelda said. “When a patient dies, it sets everyone on edge.”
“Surely you get attached to these old folks. I imagine some are here a long time.”
Esmerelda shrugged. “Guess it's a fact of life around here. This is a place to bring the old and terminal.” She stared at the ground and then shook her head. “Bless Fredrik. He was with her all night, till she expired around four this morning.”
Sara couldn't help asking. “Doesn't seeing so much death affect him?”
“Probably. He's awfully dedicated, but he can get nasty if he gets moody. Not sure how he comes to terms with the loss of life.”
Chapter 17
Sara did some of her best thinking as she drove. Fields and orchards had greened, soon to be laden with produce. Farmers geared up for the busiest time of the year. While crops flourished and grew, harvesting equipment was made ready for use from mid-summer till after Halloween.
Migrant workers began settling into the camp houses. Sara remembered decades earlier seeing a family of four, in a rusting old pickup laden with worn-out possessions stopped on the shoulder of the levee. The man and woman peered into the dirty and cracked windows of a ramshackle cabin hanging over the levee on the river side. They were transient farm workers seeking temporary shelter.
Sara sighed and remembered that some people were worse off in their lives than her family had been living in their shanty. Certainly now, she was better off than anyone she knew. As young as she was back then, she had wanted to help that family but couldn't. Yet, she could afford to help people now.
