Just Over The Mountain (15 page)

“Coffee?” Sarah asked.

The idea suddenly made her queasy. She’d slept very little, if at all, and had already had a stronger than strong cup at Blythe’s.

“Tea?” Sarah asked, noticing the grimace. “Something to settle your stomach?”

June’s hand went to her stomach. “Too much black coffee before breakfast,” she said.

“The water’s hot,” Sarah said, heading for the kitchen.

June sat down across from Daniel. “I went out to the stables, Daniel. I guess I thought I’d find you there.”

“I haven’t been out there nights in a real long time, June. Maybe a year.”

“I didn’t know.” Which would explain why Blythe didn’t expect Daniel to have any idea she was packing.

“Doubt anyone would notice. I was never late for work in the morning. Never left the stable wanting for attention.”

“But what about Blythe, Daniel?”

“Didn’t leave her wanting, neither.”

The situation was starting to take on the ring of a harem, yet these people—all three of them—were the sweetest, kindest, most apparently moral and upstanding she knew. Daniel and Blythe seemed not only devoted to each other, but almost prudish. And Sarah was so nurturing, it seemed impossible she could allow Blythe to feel this hurt. June realized that this situation was so confusing for her because she would have fully expected either Sarah or Daniel to turn away from temptation and do the right thing. Instead they seemed to blame Blythe for her own discomfort. June pressed a hand against her queasy stomach.

Sarah put a cup of tea in front of her and said, “Now, Daniel, June doesn’t understand. She thinks you’re making sinful suggestions. He only means he always has and always will take good care of Blythe. She should never worry about her future. Or her retirement.” Sarah touched the saucer. “This is a special blend, June. It’ll settle your stomach.”

June took a hopeful sip.

“I came right out here after talking to Blythe. She asked me not to say anything to you, but I can’t keep a
secret that I’m afraid might hurt someone. She’s packing. She’s planning to leave Grace Valley.”

Sarah gasped.

Suddenly June’s eyes filled with tears. “What did the two of you expect?” she asked, her voice taking on a desperate tone. “She’s devastated! Humiliated!”

Daniel’s fist came down on the patio table. “Damn stubborn, pigheaded woman! She promised me over thirty years ago that it would never come to this. We were partners, best friends. We shared everything! I always wanted what’s best for her and she for me and now she’s gonna bring all we worked for to ruin! Damn pigheaded woman!”

Sarah covered his ham-fist with her round soft hand, but she looked at June. “We’ll take care of this right away, June. This surely has to stop.”

“Blythe is going to be so upset that I came to you,” she said, then sniffed. Sarah gave her a tissue, which she used, but she thought, What the devil is the matter with me? Why the hell am I crying? She felt sorry for Blythe, true, but she was hardly overcome. They weren’t even close friends!

“We’re going to make sure she isn’t upset with you, June. You’re not to worry. Now, how is your stomach? Has the tea worked?”

She let herself concentrate for a moment and realized she had not a hint of nausea. It was magic! “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it has.” And at that moment her pager began to vibrate. Tom’s cell phone number
showed in the window. Without asking, she went the short distance into Sarah’s kitchen and dialed.

“Your aunt Myrna has been served with a search warrant by the county sheriff’s department. I’m on my way there now. You’d better come.”

June couldn’t get very close to Myrna’s house because of the crime scene van and police cars. When she got out of her truck and started up the driveway toward the house, she heard a very rare sound—Tom Toopeek shouting.

“What the hell do you mean you weren’t
obligated
to bring the warrant to my attention! Is that the way you do business now? Since when do we sneak around each other like that? This is my town, my neighbor, my—”

“And it’s my county, god dammit! I had a warrant to serve and a crime scene to investigate and couldn’t have you tipping off the—” the deputy shouted back.

“Tipping off the eighty-four-year-old woman? In case she wanted to move the body? Are you guys stupid or just plain mean?” Tom was poking a finger into a deputy’s chest, the deputy reddening more with each poke. “If that old woman has any problems—health or emotional—because of the indelicate way you’ve handled an idiotic and asinine—”

The deputy swatted Tom’s hand out of the way. “Listen, Tonto, you’d better keep your grimy little hands—”

Pushed to the limit already, Tom grabbed him by the front of the shirt and had nearly lifted him off the
ground, ready to do some serious damage, when the man’s partner came to the rescue. “Hey, hey, hey!” he shouted, putting his arms between the two of them. June jumped in as well, pulling at Tom, shouting, “Tom! Stop it!”

Tom came under control faster than Stan. The latter, a little overweight and wheezy, had trouble calming down.

“Stan, Chief Toopeek is right. We should have informed his office of the warrant, had him meet us here to talk to the old lady. He’s right to be offended. Now back off.”

Stan jabbed a finger in Tom’s direction. “You put your hands on me! Don’t you ever put your hands on me!”

“I apologize,” Tom said. “Don’t call me names.”

“He’s sorry,” the other deputy said. “He can be stupid, but he’s a good cop.”

“Don’t tell him I’m stupid,” Stan ground out between clenched teeth, giving his partner a shove.

“Incredibly stupid,” the man clarified. “Go sit in the car before I help him clean your clock.” Stan seemed to quiver with anger. “Go,” his partner said. He reluctantly turned away.

June left the men to sort things out while she ran into the house to find her aunt. There was no one in the living room, but she could hear sounds coming from upstairs. As she passed the parlor she looked out the back window and saw that yellow crime scene tape had been stretched across the backyard, strung between trees. Two men were out back digging.

“Myrna?” she called, but no one answered. She checked the kitchen where the teakettle whistled, but no one was there. She took the kettle off the fire. She could hear typing and was driven to the study.

Myrna sat at her word processor in her robe and slippers, her springy white hair flat on one side and puffy on the other, a pencil behind each ear, her glasses on her nose, her fingers going a mile a minute on the keyboard. “Myrna?” June asked.

“Come in, darling. Have they completely destroyed the house yet?”

“I haven’t even looked. Oh, Myrna, I’m so sorry about this!”

She looked completely perplexed. “Sorry? June, darling, why are you apologizing? You didn’t call for the warrant, did you?”

“No, no, I’m just sorry this is happening. And I don’t understand why—”

“I’ll tell you why. Because the bones that were found under the flower bush are approximately twenty years old, from a male the approximate age Morton was the last time I saw him.” She frowned angrily, an expression Myrna almost never wore. “That seems highly unlikely to me.”

“Because…?” June led, waiting.

“Because if a piece of someone were buried twenty years ago in my garden, don’t you think I’d know about it? I had much more time for my garden twenty years ago than I’ve had lately.” There was a crash from upstairs. “Louts,” she said, glancing at the ceiling. A
worried look crossed her features. “If they make much of a mess, it’s going to take more than the Barstows to tidy up. They’ve never really been that domestic, you know.”

June reached out and held her aunt’s hand. She was so dear, so generous. She had employed the sixty-something bickersome twins for years, despite the fact that they had very few domestic talents. How she loved Myrna. Who could possibly suspect her of a crime. If not for those books…

“What are you writing, Auntie?”

“I’ve never been this close to a house search before, so I thought I’d get as much material out of it as possible. What I’ve always thought is true—I feel completely violated.” The sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor of the bedroom upstairs caused them both to look at the ceiling. Myrna sighed heavily. “Believe it or not, I know where everything is in this cluttered old house.” She looked again at June, her eyes quite sad. “June, darling, I think you’d better call me a lawyer.”

J
une wanted to stay with her aunt Myrna, but she reluctantly turned that assignment over to Elmer. She not only had patients, but other promises to keep. Fortunately, the most important items on her list could be delegated, which she did from her cell phone as she drove. First she called Birdie and told her what was happening at Hudson House. Birdie promised to get the name of a good lawyer from Judge. Next, Charlie MacNeil offered to provide transportation for Jurea Mull so that she could visit with her children. And it was imperative that June find the time to visit Charlotte, who was barely able to get from bed to chair without help from Bud. But not today, she decided. She was coming down with a bug. Possibly the flu. Either that or she’d gotten a bad bean…

When she got into town she stopped at Sam Cussler’s gas station. The Gone Fishing sign was on the door, so she pumped her own, cleaned her windows and
slipped her I.O.U. for the cost of the gas into Sam’s mail slot. When she drove on toward the clinic, she slowed down as she passed the Flower Shoppe. When she realized what she’d seen, she slammed on the brakes and backed up. There was a sign on the door of Justine’s place of business that read Closed Until Further Notice. “Oh no,” she said aloud and headed toward their home.

Justine and Sam lived in the house that had been Sam’s for better than fifty years. There were a couple of cars parked out front, in addition to Sam’s old truck. Instinct told June to take her medical bag with her.

Justine had four sisters and one of them wordlessly opened the door for June. She looked down at the floor. June could sense the doom in the house and, without being directed, went to the bedroom. There was Justine, pale as the sheets against which she lay, Sam sitting beside her, holding her hand. Justine’s gaze left Sam’s face and found June’s. She smiled weakly. “Oh, June,” she whispered. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

A short time later John brought the ambulance and helped June load their patient into the back. He bent over Justine and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll call Dr. Worth and have him meet you at Valley Hospital,” he told her.

“Are you very angry with me, Dr. Stone?” she asked.

“Of course not, Justine. But there’s no reason for you to be in pain. Let Dr. Worth help.”

She nodded and closed her eyes.

Justine’s sister got into the back of the ambulance while Sam elected to follow in his truck so that he’d
have transportation. “How did you know to come?” he asked June.

She shrugged. “We’ve all known she’s sick,” she said. “And the flower shop was closed.”

Sam hung his head. It was the first time in June’s memory she had seen him look old. And all June could do for him now was take his young bride to the hospital.

“Her father’s going to blame me for this,” Sam said. “And maybe he’ll be right to. I couldn’t seem to change her mind.”

“We all tried, Sam. John and I did, you did, I’m sure her sisters did. You must not blame yourself.”

He nodded weakly and shuffled toward his pickup. June got into the ambulance, up front with John.

June had no idea why people made the choices they did. This was not the first time a patient of hers had refused to be treated for a dangerous disease, nor was it the first time that denial of the illness was more catastrophic than the illness itself. But it was the first time a woman so young had made this choice. It was very likely Justine would die. And she had been diagnosed only a few months ago.

Ovarian cancer was the worst. Without aggressive treatment, it was fatal. In fact, all too often even aggressive treatment couldn’t save the patient.

Justine had brushed everyone’s worry aside and thought she was choosing motherhood over chemotherapy. In the end, June believed, there would prove to be no pregnancy—only cancer.

This was by far one of the hardest parts of being a
doctor—having a patient you might have saved ignore your advice. June felt strongly that the decision to fight illness was an individual’s right, but it was often made more palatable when strong religious beliefs were involved, or when one was choosing quality of life over a painful treatment. Or in old age, when a patient was comfortable with passing on. But in this case June couldn’t help but believe Justine had been irrational. And while that might be her right, it was damn hard to accept. She wished she could turn back the clock, maybe consider a court order.

June left Justine with the emergency room nurses, who would have her admitted. “I’ll leave you in Dr. Worth’s care,” she said. “I’ll drop by and check on you later.”

Justine grabbed her arm as she would have left. “June. Don’t let Sam blame himself.”

The morning had been full and not especially pleasant. By the time June got to the clinic, the place was deserted. The clinic was unlocked, so they couldn’t be far. “Hello?” she called down the hall. No answer.

Someone might have crossed the street to grab something from the café for an early lunch or to run a quick errand. She went to Jessie’s desk to look for a note, but found none. The piece of paper she moved first right and then left, looking for a message, finally caught her attention. It was a class schedule for the community college and the name of the registrant was Jessica Wiley. Biology 101, English primer, anatomy, algebra
and geology. She stared at the paper for a long time. When she looked up, Jessie was standing in the front door of the clinic holding a large plastic cup with a frothy swirl of ice milk adorning the top. She was smiling broadly.

“I got my GED and enrolled last week…just in time,” she said.

“Oh Jessie, that’s wonderful,” June said.

“I’m not sure yet whether I can make it all the way to being a doctor, but I know that for sure I’ll be a nurse.”

“Of course you will.”

“Because of you, and John, and Susan.”

“No, Jessie. Because of
you.
”

“My dad thinks I’m totally crazy.”

“But he’s proud of you?”

“Sure. It’s just that I don’t always follow through, you know. I dropped out of high school the minute I could. And now—” She shrugged.

“And now you know what you want,” June finished for her. She held open her arms and filled them with Jessie.

She would need help, June thought, embracing the young woman with emotion. Maybe help with her studies, maybe schedule adjustments to accommodate classes. Maybe help with tuition. It would be such a joy.

June relaxed her embrace. “Come on,” she said, putting an arm around her and leading Jessie down the hall toward her office. “Let’s talk about how I can help you.”

At day’s end, June drove out to the Toopeek home. Elmer would not leave Hudson House while there were still investigators around, and with the size of that house and the accumulation of possessions, it was going to take a good long time for them to get through everything. June needed to talk about things, and there were only a few places she would go with such a need. She often turned to Birdie, her godmother, but not with Chris and his sons still there and their household in turmoil. She turned to her dad with regularity, but he was needed elsewhere. Although she hadn’t imposed thus far, she felt she could turn to John and Susan. But right now was not a good time, even though she believed they would set aside their quarrel to help her if she needed them.

She hadn’t called ahead but knew that it would be all right. It was dinnertime and that, too, was acceptable. The lights shone throughout the house; the dining room was especially bright.

June remembered the building of this house. It had started with a small brick, mortar and wood structure that Tom’s dad, Lincoln, had built himself when his kids were very small. Then, one by one, the kids left Lincoln and Philana. Tom came back after college, after serving a short time as a Sacramento police officer, and he came back with a wife. Tom and Ursula had their own home built onto the first Toopeek structure and began to fill the place with children. Now there were nine Toopeeks in that house.

As June sat in her car looking at the house, she realized that she had always felt safe in their home, even when their home had been a hogan with a dirt floor. That was the way the Toopeeks made you feel.

Philana opened the door for her. “June! How good it is that you’re here. Ursula! June has come.”

Ursula came out of the kitchen. “Perfect! Will you eat?”

“I will,” she said. “I’m starving,” she added, only now realizing.

The sun had just gone down, but the fireplace in the great room was already ablaze, setting a cozy picture. Wonderful smells of fresh bread and meaty stew filled the air. The children, from six-year-old Bobby to sixteen-year-old Tanya, were picking books up from the long dining table and putting their schoolwork, one by one, on stairs that led up to their bedrooms. Then each one took part in setting the table, the younger ones putting out place mats and napkins while the older ones handled dishes and glasses.

Fresh coffee steamed the air and June found a mug hanging on a peg on the wall. She dressed her coffee with sugar and cream, something she’d only recently discovered she liked, and tried to stay out of the way.

“My eighth-graders are more sophisticated each year, and not always in a positive way,” Ursula was saying. “I had to send a darling little girl to the counselor’s office today so that she could have a fashion lesson. Not only do I not wish to see her belly button, I am also disinterested in her belly-button jewelry.”

“Pierces?” June asked.

“Everywhere imaginable. I’m trying to decide if it’s my right to forbid tongue pierces. If I cannot understand them when they speak, am I entitled to request they remove their little baubles?”

At just that moment, as Johnny would have passed her with a stack of plates, June reached out and snagged his sleeve, forcing him to meet her eyes. The bruise around one eye had faded to purplish-yellow, but there was a cut on his lip that looked reluctant to heal. She made a face. “You get this at football practice?”

He was mute, staring at June. Ursula was stirring a pot at the stove. Without turning around, she said, “Tell the truth, please.”

“I was in a fight. I didn’t start it.”

“I thought this was an anti-fighting family,” June said.

“It is,” Johnny said. “It’s also an anti-dying family.” He carried on with his chore.

Ursula looked over her shoulder at June and lifted an eyebrow. Clearly his mother was not happy with him. June couldn’t wait to ask Tom about this altercation.

“Will Tom be home for dinner?” June asked Ursula.

“He’s on his way now,” she said. She pulled a fresh loaf of bread from the oven; the yeasty richness of it filled the kitchen and brought Lincoln from some other part of the house. Upon seeing June, he nodded solemnly, then took his place at the head of the long table. “I never know if Tom is only taking a dinner break or if he’s home for the evening,” Ursula continued. “He complains of being busy.”

“That’s why I’m here,” June said. “I want to talk to him about the search going on at my aunt Myrna’s house.”

“After dinner,” Ursula stressed. “I’m certain he’ll make the time.”

When Tom arrived, the smaller children ran to him, and from his greeting, one would never know he carried so many burdens. After lifting them one at a time, remarking on their weight and telling them to eat more vegetables, he went to his wife and kissed her. Next he examined Johnny’s face, made a disapproving frown that was clearly fake. Then he kissed his daughter’s cheek and thanked her for helping with the food and the younger children. Then came his parents—first his mother and then his father. Each was greeted formally, then affectionately. All this was done before he even acknowledged June.

“You’re a long way from home,” he said, smiling.

“I need a good meal.”

He looked her up and down, judging her slimness. “Desperately so, it appears. How was your day?”

“Terrible. Yours?”

“Equal.”

She reached for the mug tree and selected a large one. “Coffee?”

“Please,” he answered. He took his filled mug to the end of the table opposite his father. Once he sat, the children fell into their places like dominoes. June knew exactly where she was expected to sit and took her place. Lincoln led a prayer of thanks, broke bread and passed it, and the table conversation turned immediately
to what each child had accomplished in school and at home.

This was the Toopeek family hour. There were occasions when this child or that had a job or activity and a plate had to be saved, but it was rare. The family hour was important to all of them. It was like June and Elmer’s Tuesday-night meat loaf, when they made a point of sharing their lives. Or the Hudson Sunday dinner.

I have always been made welcome at this table as if a member of this family, June thought humbly.

When dinner was done, the children did the cleanup and some of them reclaimed the table for more homework while the younger ones were excused to TV, baths and bed.

The adults took second cups of coffee into the great room to sit by the fire.

“I’m worried about my aunt, Tom,” June said. “What’s going to happen?”

“The better question is, what
has
happened,” he replied. “Since reading the newspaper story written by our bird-watcher, Mr. Paul Faraday, it’s very clear that he spent days, possibly weeks, looking for any remains that might’ve been hidden on Myrna’s property. He didn’t ‘stumble’ upon bones—he searched for them. When the forensic anthropologist I sent them to didn’t act quickly enough, Mr. Faraday went to the county district attorney and made a convincing argument against Myrna. All this, I believe, because he happens to be a true-crime writer and newspaper stringer on the
side. He probably couldn’t identify any bird other than a chicken.”

June’s mouth hung open while Tom shared all this. “He wants a story. A book.”

“Based on a famous writer’s murder of her husband. That is what I believe.”

“But Myrna doesn’t know anything about those old bones, Tom. Dad and I asked her pointedly. She doesn’t know what became of Morton. He wandered off. We’re trying to get information from the company he worked for, but they went out of business years ago.”