A couple of hours later, she was two glasses in and well into the story when the library window rattled as though hit by a gust of wind. Then a light clack, clack, clack of something hitting the glass.
She rose to her feet and felt the wine go directly to her head. “Oops.” It was a light buzz, but it made her feel weightless, like she had detached from her body and now hovered suspended inside it. She ambled to the window and pulled the heavy gold cord to open the curtains. To her surprise, it was fully dark outside, and her own reflection stared back at her. The clacking had quieted. Must have been the wind knocking the branches of a tree against the house. She studied her reflection, ponytail pulled tight, lines around her eyes. She wasn’t that old, but sadness left marks, and she bore plenty of them.
A puff of frigid air tickled the back of her neck, and she gasped. Reflected beside her in the window was a little boy, the one from the market—she could tell by his red sweatshirt, the hood pulled up and cinched tight.
She whirled around, eyes wide open, but the room was empty, of course. Cold beads of sweat formed in her armpits. “Jesus, Jess,” she berated herself. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She shook her head. Her imagination had grown too active in Pine Lake. Time to put the wine away for sure. When she moved to return to the couch, her toe hit a small black stone on the rug, and she groaned in frustration. The damn rocks were still being tracked in daily, making it quite a chore to keep the house clear of them. Bending down, she picked it up, but the shape of it in her palm stopped her cold. She opened her hand and inhaled sharply. A perfectly heart-shaped rock.
She held it to her chest. Chance had loved looking for heart-shaped rocks, and it didn’t matter if they were an actual heart or more of an impression of one. To him, most of them were close enough. Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to push away her memories, but they were always there, like the phantom pain from a missing limb. It took only the thought to conjure Chance to her side, feel the light press of his bony shoulder into her hip. She could reach out and tousle his curls, and he would look back at her with his gap-toothed smile, skin the color of butterscotch, his eyes lit with excitement, small fingertips grasping a rock. Her chest tightened. She’d told him they would bring him good luck because they were hearts. And that the heart was where love lived. And that love was magical.
She closed her eyes and let the rock drop into a wastepaper basket by the couch. Her memories did nothing but hurt and make her wish for things she couldn’t have.
The clacking started up again with such force she thought the window might explode.
Jess rushed over to the window and peered outside. The boy stood on the patio directly across from her. Her breath came hard and fast, fogging the glass. He raised his arm and threw something at her that landed with a clack on the window. And then another. Clack! And another. Clack! The kid was throwing rocks.
She rapped on the glass. “Hey!” she yelled. “Stop that!”
He turned and bolted into the thistles. She let the curtains fall together and rushed from the library. It was time she confronted the boy.
The minute she stepped outside, she wished she’d grabbed a coat. The night was moonless and cold. She picked her way around the side of the house, stumbling over unseen tree roots and toe-stubbing rocks. She shivered. Something urged her forward despite a growing desire to go back inside where it was warm and light.
She made it to the relative flatness of the side patio and stopped in her tracks. The similarity to the other day made her heart jump into her throat. There he stood beside the old shed on the hill above her, his sweatshirt hood pulled up and over his head, hands shoved deep into the pockets. Unmoving.
“Hey, kid,” she called, but she’d begun to shiver from the cold and her voice shook. “What do you want?”
He raised his arm and let something sail from his hand. She shrank back, hands over her head. He was throwing rocks at her now? What was the kid’s deal? The object tumbled onto the patio and rolled, lopsided, until it clattered to a stop at her feet. She stared at it, and for a second she lost the sense of the ground beneath her, the feel of her skin, the need to breathe.
It was a rock, and she knew even before she picked it up that it was heart shaped.
Her strength left her in a whoosh, and she sank to her knees on the hard stone, mindless of the jagged pain it sent up her thighs. Breathe, Jess. Breathe, damn it. The rocks, her wrist, the dreams about her son. It felt like she was reliving that year all over again. But the boy was real, wasn’t he? Hadn’t Lucy seen him too? She looked up the hill, squinted in the dark; he was gone.
From the thick woods to her left came a heavy crashing of leaves and branches. She sprang to her feet, chest heaving. What the hell was that? Even in the black night she could make out low-hanging pine branches thrashing back and forth, and she heard a deep huffing sound. Bear.
She backed away from the trees, but the huffing grew louder until it seemed like the animal was running full tilt and straight at her. In a panic, she hurled the rock toward the sound and turned to run, but in her haste she tripped and fell to her hands and knees. Her racing heart beat loud in her ears as the air filled with an animal stink.
Jess clasped her hands across the back of her head, bracing for a claw to rip through her skin, but then the sound of someone running through the dry grass behind Lucy’s house brought her head up. A figure darted down the hill.
“Hey, bear!” came Officer Ben’s voice. “Hey! Go, bear!” Ben tore down the hill, sidestepping the patch of thistle, arms raised high over his head and waving back and forth. “Hey! Go, bear!” He ran past Jess and stood at the tree line, arms still raised, his voice deep, guttural, and authoritative. “Hey! Go away, bear!”
The thrashing faded, and the night became quiet again. Jess pushed to her feet and wiped dirt from her jeans, her hands still shaking from the encounter. The wildest animal she’d seen in the city had been a large and very scary-looking raccoon scavenging in the dumpster behind her building.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s a good thing bears obey cops too.”
He smiled, still breathing hard.
A bead of sweat dripped down her back. She rubbed at her arms and shivered; she felt hot and cold all at the same time, and her pulse still raced. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to think about something other than how she’d nearly been eaten by a bear. Ben stood in a wide stance, his eyes trained on the forest. Jess noticed that he wasn’t in uniform, and like her, he also wasn’t wearing a coat.
He pointed past the shed at the slope behind Lucy’s home, where Jess could just make out the glow of house lights between the tree branches. “That’s my house up there. I was getting firewood when I heard you yelling. There’s been a mama bear and her cubs spotted a few times already. When I heard you scream, I figured mama bear saw you as a threat.” He glanced into the woods again. “Guess I was right.”
“Thanks again. Would you like to come inside for tea”—she thought of the wine—“or a drink?” Part of her hoped he’d say no; she’d prefer to avoid the uncomfortable chatter that inevitably came with small talk. But another, surprising part of her thought it might be nice to spend some time getting to know someone new. Pine Lake was changing her.
“Sure, that sounds nice.” In the dark she couldn’t see his face well, but she could feel him staring at her, as if he was measuring her up. “Mind if I ask what you were doing out here this time of night? Spring’s an active time for animals, and with the thaw the bears are waking up, and they’re hungry.”
“I saw a bo—” At this point she wasn’t sure how much she could trust her own perception, and she certainly didn’t want Ben to think she was unstable or fragile. She suspected he only needed a reason to suggest to Lucy that Jess was unfit for the job. Something told her that he’d been deeply offended, maybe even angry, when Lucy took matters into her own hands. “I thought I saw a bear from the library window.”
He
chuckled, shook his head. “Again, huh? Looks like you were right this time, but how about next time you stay inside so you can watch from the safety of the house?”
She laughed. “Good idea.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
JESS
He followed her inside and to the library; she pointed to the cart in the corner. “Help yourself. I just learned today that Lucy keeps liquor stocked in here.”
He crossed the room to the small bar. “I know all about Lucy’s stocked bar.” He opened the cabinet door, took out a crystal tumbler, and poured three fingers of whiskey into the bottom.
Jess felt her cheeks warm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I knew more—”
“She caught me sneaking a sip of whiskey when I was fourteen,” he said with a smile, and Jess relaxed.
“What did she do?” She returned to her seat on the sofa, closed the book she’d never finish. She’d never been much of a reader anyway—didn’t have the time. Magazines were easier and faster.
“She said that whiskey is a man’s drink, and a real man doesn’t have to sneak around to drink it.” He took a long swallow.
“Did that stop you?” Ben had a weathered look to him, the planes of his face deep, angles sharp, which made it hard to imagine him as a teenage boy.
“Hell no. But something else did.”
“What?”
“I was around your niece’s age, right? So I was young, maybe a bit naive.”
She tried not to react to the mention of Star as her niece, feeling bad for the lie. “Okay, so?”
“And maybe a little drunk, because when she found me the second time, I had just downed an entire shot glass of whiskey. She swept through that door with her eyes closed and came right up to me. I was shaking so badly the shot glass slipped through my fingers and fell to the floor. Then she opened her eyes.” He ran his hands through his short hair. “You know how crazy her eyes are by now, right?”
Jess nodded.
“So I never snuck whiskey from the cabinet again.”
Jess leaned toward him, waiting for the part of his story where Lucy levitated him with her broom or made his head spin in circles. It didn’t come. “Wait, that’s it? That’s all that happened?”
“I was fourteen. And she was the Witch of Pine Lake. Scared the shit out of me.”
She laughed. “You sound like Jeremy.”
“How’s that?”
“He acted the same way about Star today. You mountain men sure are scared of a bunch of little women.”
His face lit with amusement, and he crossed the room, took a seat in the chair opposite her. “How’s your niece doing?”
Jess took a sip of wine and another, then settled back on the couch and tried to sound casual. “Good. She likes it here.” The wine buzzed through her body, making her fidget, and she searched for something to say to change the topic. “Lucy seems to really care about you.”
He grunted and drained his whiskey. “We’ve known each other a long time.”
“She seems concerned about you, though. Can’t stop worrying about your loose end. What do you think she means by it?”
He stood, returned to the bar, and poured himself another glass. “What’s that?”
“Your loose end. She’s talked about it more than once, and it seems to upset her.” His face had set like stone, and Jess worried that she’d crossed a line into something personal. Something that wasn’t any of her business. She tried to switch tactics. “Sorry, it’s just that she talks about loose ends a lot, not just yours, and as her caregiver I’m only trying to figure out what she means.”
He took a sip before heading back to the chair. “Lucy gave me a job when I needed the money. Bought me practice gear for football. Things my parents didn’t care about.”
Ben’s broad shoulders had shrunk, making him look defensive. He’d already told her that he’d had a less than perfect childhood, and she felt bad for prying. “Let me guess,” she teased, hoping to lighten mood, “defensive lineman?”
He gave her a tight smile. “Quarterback.”
“Did you play in college?”
His jaw tightened, and he gripped the sides of the tumbler. She half expected it to shatter. “I had a full scholarship to CU Boulder. Redshirted my freshman year, and by my junior year I was on track to be starting quarterback.” He paused, and his jaw twitched. “I got injured before my junior year. Badly. The doctors prescribed me pain pills, too many of them, and I was young and stupid enough to think taking more than I needed was keeping the pain away. By the time I realized I was addicted, it was too late. I was missing practices, didn’t show up for games, and I lost my scholarship.” He knocked back the rest of the whiskey and met her eyes again. “I went through a rough patch after that, and by sheer strength of will I made it through in one piece. Lucy was there for me during that too.”
She softened. Life was merciless and cruel. End of story.
“My son died when he was very young.” She was surprised it came out so easily with someone she hardly knew, but she was touched that he’d shared his past with her. It wasn’t easy to talk about failure. “I had nobody. It was”—she scratched her wrist through the cotton fabric of her shirt—“a very difficult time to get through, and I can’t say I did it very well.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure why I told you that, except I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you had Lucy.”
He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry, Jess,” he said in a soft voice.
She blinked rapidly and gave him a small smile. A part of her yearned to talk about her son, to share the lightness he’d brought into her world with someone else. But the shadow of how she’d found him that night stretched long and darkened the good memories with an ugliness that made it hard. “I’m not sure why Lucy would be concerned about your loose ends, because it seems to me like you overcame those days.”
He shifted in his seat, ran a hand roughly through his hair. “That’s why I’m worried about her. As she’s gotten older, it’s like she’s lost track of time, forgets the past. Sometimes I swear she thinks I’m Ben from back then, not the guy who cleaned his life up.”
“I’m really sorry for prying. It’s none of my business.”
His knee jiggled up and down, and he tapped the side of his tumbler with his fingers. “Lucy has a way of making everyone’s business her own.” His eyes scanned the room, ceiling to floor. “I know you’re here to help her, Jess, but I’m serious about this house.” As though in response to being talked about, the walls creaked and the light from the chandelier dimmed.
Jess blinked several times. Her eyes had grown dry at this higher altitude. “What about the house?”
“It’s too big for her. I’ve been telling her that for years. Hell, she can barely make it up the stairs, and one day she’s going to fall and break her hip.”
Jess stiffened at Ben’s tone. “That’s what I’m here for, Ben,” she reminded him. “If it puts your mind at ease, you’re wrong. I’ve worked around many seniors her age and younger, and from what I’ve seen, Lucy is physically strong and manages those stairs like someone half her age. Personally, I think this house is exactly where she needs to be. Please don’t take offense, but I truly believe that making her leave at this point is cruel and unnecessary.”
He sat straight up, his broad shoulders almost wider than the wings of the chair, and held her gaze. “How long will you be here, Jess? Seems to me you’re someone who doesn’t like attachments or commitments. Where were you going the day your car broke down anyway?”
From somewhere within the house, a door banged against a wall. Jess stood, grateful for the interruption. The space between them was taut like a rubber band pulled too tight. She kept her head held high, her back straight. For now she was the caregiver, and she would make whatever decisions were in Lucy’s best interests. “They’re home,” she said stiffly. “I’m sure Lucy will be pleased to see you, Ben, but she’ll be tired f
rom her evening out. Maybe you can come back tomorrow for a visit?”
The way he stared at her made Jess wonder if she’d gone too far. Then his face relaxed, and he smiled. “Of course. Thanks for the drink. I’ll go say hello before I see myself out.”
Her heart beat fast. The conversation about Lucy had turned into a tense standoff between them. Making an enemy out of someone who cared deeply for the older woman would be a mistake, and she needed to make it right before he left. “Hey, Ben,” she said.
He hesitated in the doorway.
“I do see your point about the house, and I meant what I said the other day about helping her go through her things for when that time comes. We even started on a few boxes in the basement. We’re starting on the attic next, and after that I thought we’d tackle the shed, but I can’t seem to find a key that fits the lock. Lucy thought you might know. Do you?”
He stepped toward her, and even in the library with the arched ceilings and walls that stretched high above her head, his height and wide shoulders made the space feel small, claustrophobic. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to escape.
Lucy’s red hair and stooped form appeared in the doorway just then, and Jess exhaled with relief.
“Benjamin!” she said. “This is an awfully late visit from you.”
Star appeared silently behind her.
Ben’s eyes widened at Lucy’s voice, his shoulders slumped, and for a second Jess could see him as the teen boy who got caught drinking whiskey from the liquor cabinet.
“Ben saved me from a bear this evening,” Jess offered.
“Is that so?” Lucy said.
Ben turned and gave Lucy a gentle smile. “If you’re going to hire city folk up here, you need to teach them about mountain dangers.”
Star’s eyes widened, and she looked directly at Jess. “You saw a bear?”
Jess nodded but noticed how intently Ben stared at Star. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and she moved quickly to Star’s side, leading her out of the library. “Tell me all about the movie,” she said.
The Secrets of Lost Stones Page 18
