Authors: Annette Bower
Nick stood and walked slowly toward her parents. “Pleased to meet you. If you would be more comfortable, I’ll take Molly home.”
“No, please stay,” her mother replied. “If Anna feels safe then I can, too.” They all returned to their seats.
Anna focused on melting the marshmallows, adding a piece of chocolate and then sandwiching the delightful mixture between two wafers. She passed one to Margaret, her mother, Herman, and her father. Nick was last. She held his eyes with her gaze. “Did you make these when you were a little boy?”
“Sort of, but the chocolate was gone before we made the second one. It was always fun to eat the chocolate bar. I’ve forgotten how enjoyable it is, sitting around a fire with friends,” he said.
It had been a long day by the time everyone crawled under the covers.
Anna tossed and turned in the warm night. At times she felt the tangled sheets would hold her forever. Her dreams spun pictures of Murray and her that brought more smiles than sorrow.
In the morning, she awoke with a need to love again—and to be loved—tingling in her very core.
At breakfast, Anna was like a kid in school, wanting to know what her parents thought of her friends. As she poured coffee and waited for the toaster to pop, she willed her father to talk about Nick. But with his head in the newspaper and her mother staring out the window at the lake, it was a very quiet morning. This house affected them just as it did her.
“I wish we had more time here,” her mother said.
“You can come back in the summer for your holiday instead of doing other things.” Anna was hopeful.
Her father sipped his coffee. “That Nick has got a handle on the water resource. He’s knowledgeable for living in such a small community. What’s his story?”
“Sorry, Dad. Can’t help you. I haven’t told anyone about Murray and how I came to live here, so I haven’t asked anyone else about their past. He says it’s his temporary job.” She bit her tongue. She couldn’t share his loss. He didn’t ask her to keep it a secret, but she just felt like she should. She wouldn’t want everyone talking about her situation unless she brought it up.
“By the way, Herman and Margaret are at a loss about Murray and how I came to be in the cottage.”
“I noticed. Last night Margaret asked open-ended questions. I’m glad we won’t be here much longer or I’m sure I’d spill the beans.” Anna’s mother draped an arm around her shoulders.
“If you do, then you do. In fact, they didn’t know anything about me before I came. It’s only been a month, but I’m sure I can’t last much longer. It’s been fun though just to be me.”
“This has got to be an unusual community to just accept you.” Dad folded his newspaper. “I’ve been thinking perhaps it has something to do with the fact it’s a tourist destination for half a year. They’re used to having strangers among them for short durations of time.”
“Could be.” Anna stood tall. “Weren’t you proud of me last night when I passed Nick a s’more without flinching from Molly?”
“I’m proud of you.” Her father saluted her with his coffee cup.
Anna picked up her breakfast plate. “I can’t believe I’ve hung on to my fear of dogs all this time. I was five when that ankle-biter got me.”
“You know what they say, honey. Sometimes we put all of our fears onto one object. You had a lot of fears when you first came to us, and since Mom was afraid of dogs too, we let you keep it. Besides, it’s a healthy, cautious fear.”
“Nothing that rules my life is healthy,” she replied firmly.
“Aren’t you glad you’re going to conquer it? Is there anyone specific who will help you?” Dad chuckled.
A slow smile pulled at her lips. “Maybe, but he’s a temporary guy.”
Her mother raised her eyebrows, “Some good things can be said for temporary.”
“I can’t believe you two.” Anna pulled each of them to her side.
When Nick walked onto the deck he heard laughter bouncing off the windows, floating through the screen door. Susan stroked Anna’s hair while Peter patted her back.
His stomach caved into his spine. He felt wistful, again an outsider looking in. Always outside, he reminded himself. When he turned Herman was there, leaning over the gate. “Skulking around, dear boy? You’ve got to remember you left all that behind on the front lines.”
Nick brought his fingers to his lips. He stealthily crossed over behind the hedge and sat on a chair under an umbrella. “Some things never seem to change. I came over to apologize for scaring the women and they’ve completely forgotten. They’re in there laughing, all snuggled up like bugs on a rug and in this heat, too. Who are these people?”
“You’ve got me there. Maybe they’re con artists. After all, none of them claim a relationship to John. I asked last night and neither Peter nor Susan is related. It’s kind of curious, if you ask me. Margaret reminded me to be patient. But John was a friend, and I’d be upset if someone was trying to do him out of something.”
“Whoa, Herman! Don’t get so fired up. I’m sure there must be a reasonable explanation, though I can’t explain it, either. There are so many secrets in this town. It could be a donation of sorts. Janis said all the paperwork was in order, so it’s legal and above board. But why don’t they tell us? Why the secrecy?”
Well, I’m on a roll
.
He bent down to rub his leg when his fingertips remembered he wore a prosthesis under his khakis.
“You don’t think she could be one of John’s kids, do you? We know his reputation,” Herman said.
“We’d be related if she is.” Nick made an effort to remain matter-of-fact.
“When’d you find out?”
“Dad told me before I went into the army, in case anything happened and they needed a health history.”
“That must have been a surprise.” Herman kept his head down.
“It was. Dad never knew until Mom told him, just before she left. He always thought she just played cribbage with John.”
“Margaret and I always argued about whether we should have said something to your dad, but we didn’t know for sure. You were a young fellow by the time we moved here. We just heard things from other old timers.”
“It’s one of those community secrets. I probably have half-siblings I don’t know about.”
“If you’d have been sweet on one of your half-sisters we’d have told you. Community conjecture and secrets! Margaret said Anna has told her she’s adopted.”
Nick closed his eyes for a second. “You don’t suppose, do you?”
“It’s something worth keeping in mind.” Herman rubbed a hankie across his forehead. “It’s going to be a scorcher today. You should have on short pants, mister. Do you think the people in this town would treat you any differently if they knew you had lost a leg serving our country? There’s a whole new view on handicapped now.”
“I’m not handicapped.”
“Well, you might not be handicapped, but you do have some growing to do in some other areas of your life, like accepting you might not get back into that precious army of yours.”
“Oh, I’m still in. But I don’t know if I’m ready for a desk job. I want to go back to Afghanistan, and if I can’t go, then I may as well be of some use here.”
“Guess we just have to let things come out in their own good time. And to be honest, Anna’s been nothing but kind and helpful. I swear she looks at me like some of those nurses did in the hospital. It wouldn’t surprise me if she knew a bit about pain. In fact, she does look sad at times,” Herman added, rubbing his chin.
“Yeah, I’ve seen it, too. I just don’t like not knowing. If it bugs me so much, I could stay away. Right?”
“That’s one of the choices you could make.”
They heard a car door slam and Margaret’s voice trilling goodbye.
Stepping over to them, Margaret kissed Herman’s cheek and tapped Nick on the shoulder. “I said a prayer for both of you today.”
“I feel better already. How about you, Nick?”
“You old reprobate. You know you like it when I talk about you to anyone.”
Margaret twitched her skirt. “French toast in a few minutes. Nick, stay.”
Nick quelled his first impulse to refuse. Molly was happy following the tractors in the field, and he didn’t have any B&B reservations. He hoped his father would come home soon. “Thanks, Margaret. By the way, did anyone mention a different taste in the town’s water supply today?”
“Old Mrs. Black did, but her taste buds dried up long ago.”
“Why do you ask?” Herman called over his shoulder while he followed Margaret into the kitchen.
Nick closed the door. “The readings were a little off this morning. I’m curious. The B and B’s water comes from our well, so I wouldn’t taste and smell the water like some of the residents. Besides, the town wells are in different locations and at different depths. The system was built in stages and allows water use in some homes before it mixes together. Some residents could be experiencing changes that others aren’t.”
“I haven’t noticed anything this morning,” Herman said.
“You probably wouldn’t. You get your supply from the reservoir after all of the wells have been mixed together.”
“It’s Sunday, Nick. Give it a rest. Saskatoon syrup?” Margaret placed a plate piled with thick, golden brown toast in the center of the table.
Both men shared a smirk.
“I saw that look pass between you. Don’t think I didn’t. I see a lot of things.” Margaret sat at the end of the table.
“Yes, dear. Do you see the sorrow on Anna’s face every now and again?”
“I do. That’s why I haven’t pushed her for any details. I’m sure it’s the key to her mystery. We all have our secrets.”
“Speaking of secrets, where is she getting all the rocks for her garden? The pile in my field hasn’t gone down, I know that for sure,” Nick said with his fork poised in mid-air.
Margaret and Herman smiled at each other. “That’s for us to know and you to find out.”
They all laughed.
Nick thought about Herman’s remark about Anna looking like a nurse. He recalled her first remark about seeing amputations. Did she speak of being a nurse in another life? He must have blocked it out. He’d had enough of health care providers to last him a lifetime.
He couldn’t block out that they might be related through John. He’d have to keep his growing attraction under wraps until he knew for sure.
Chapter 7
On Sunday evening Anna’s parents praised her accomplishments again before they drove back to the airport. Later, Anna lulled in scented bath water. Her fingers played in the bubbles and her toes perched on the taps. Enjoying a new feeling of well-being, she ran her palms over her muscled thighs, realizing how removed from her body she had become. Her life since Murray’s death had been a series of quick showers. She hadn’t been able to bear remembering his touch.
While she lay back letting her mind wander, instead of Murray’s blue eyes, she thought about a deep brown gaze filled with earnest conviction one moment and sparkling with laughter the next. She tingled in places she thought had been dulled for life. Ever since she and her mother were frightened by Molly, Nick had been absent. During quiet moments, she’d found herself listening for Nick’s deep-timbre voice coming from the other side of the hedge.
Herman had mentioned he visited with Nick at the local coffee shop. Margaret remained curiously quiet on Nick’s absence, the opposite of former conversations when Nick’s name was in every other sentence. Were the Lambs doing their own little bit of matchmaking?
She toweled off and put on her coolest nightie. With her growing sense of confidence she wandered around the living room, glancing at this and that. Focusing on the old stone fireplace, then past the wooden columns, the shadows of light attracted her eye to a small irregularity she had not noticed before. She walked over and probed the edges with her fingertips, pushed on it gently, then harder. Finally, with a firm upward push, the panel moved.
Anna’s curiosity was enormous but she wasn’t putting her hand into that hole without first seeing it lit up. She stretched her lamp but the cord was too short. She ran into the kitchen and grabbed her flashlight. She had just bent down and aimed the beam into the space, when a knock at her front door startled her and made her drop the light. She screamed.
Standing outside, Nick saw the beam of lamplight swaying across the room and was on the alert. He crept along the side path and arrived at the door to observe Anna bent over, wearing the cutest lace creation he’d seen in a very long time. Her feet and legs were bare. The skirt of the nightie bounced around her buttocks as she bent forward.
Get a grip. Until you know who she is, she’s off limits.
He knocked quietly, but she obviously didn’t hear. She set down the lamp she’d been holding, ran into the kitchen, and returned with a flashlight, shining it at the fireplace pillar. He knocked again, louder, causing her to scream in fright. He called out, “Anna, it’s me. Nick.”
She turned toward the door with her hand to her throat. Her face was white, then pink, then red; she must have just figured out what he was seeing. She stumbled backward out of sight down the hall. He waited. She returned with her composure and her fluffy housecoat firmly knotted about her waist. She unbolted the door, a blush lingering on her cheeks.
“Ah, hi. Can I help you?”
“I wanted to make sure everything was all right with your mom, that she’ll come back again.”
“Yes, we talked about this fear and how we have to learn to control it. It limits our lives.”
“Molly and I will help.”
Anna looked past him onto the front step. “Is she with you now?”
“No. She and I had quite the day. She ended up trying to bite a chunk out of a porcupine and we took a trip to the veterinary office.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Yes. She has to stay quiet, and she’s embarrassed. The vet put one of those medical collars on her to keep her from licking some of the worst spots.”
“Medical collars?”
“The upside-down lamp shade things.”
“Oh. I get it.”
“What were you up to just now?”
“I noticed a portion of the panel that was different, so I investigated and found a secret hiding place. I was trying to gather my courage to put my hand in there when you knocked. You know the rest.”
“I’ve been known to put my hand in strange places.” He began rolling up his sleeve.
“I’ll do it.” She clenched her jaw, then tentatively eased her slender hand into the square opening. Gradually, her wrist was followed by her forearm. She faced him as she stretched past her elbow. Her big brown eyes were changing from fear to expectation to triumph. “I feel something. It feels soft. A dead mouse wouldn’t be soft, would it?” She backed away, then gulped and pushed her arm back in. Her eyes held his, as if drawing on enough inner strength to follow her conviction.
He wanted to take over, to help her, to put his arm into the confined space and feel whatever it was. He knew the dangers of putting one’s hand in places that couldn’t be seen. It was part of their combat training. ‘Never’ was the rule of thumb.
He reminded himself this was Regina Beach, not a war zone. The worst in there might be a dead mouse. He watched Anna extend further, her shoulder leaning against the panel, her robe bunching up. It parted, giving Nick a glimpse of a light golden, tanned thigh leading to a paler area with lace fluttering around the edges. He turned away.
She backed off from the pillar. In her hand was a plastic wrapped package secured with string. She pinched the string between her thumb and forefinger and carried it to the table, blowing bits of dust from the surface of the package. “What do you think it is?”
“It’s probably some of John’s papers or a money stash. Everyone around here had a place to stash extra cash.”
“It’s wrapped tight. Could be cash, it’s his writing. I’ve found bits of his correspondence as I’ve been cleaning up.”
He looked at her. “You weren’t very close to him, were you?”
“No. I never met him.”
“But you inherited his property.”
She shrugged wordlessly.
He handed her his pocket knife. She pried out the blade, cut through the string, sliced the plastic, and peeled away the old cellophane that held together edges of brown paper.
Several photographs lay nestled in a pile. On top was a picture of a dark haired woman, and a man holding a baby posed in front of a Ferris wheel. Another photograph was a baby in a large carriage. Still another showed a sour little girl in a hat and long dress clutching a doll. A colored photo of a rosy cheeked young woman dressed in dark clothes stood against a potted fern. Another was of a young man sitting on a wooden kitchen chair on a scraggly lawn, wearing work boots and country clothes.
The last one was of a child, maybe eight months old, in a knit outfit, perhaps a boy because he held onto a stuffed dog.
“I wonder what this means?” she said as she lined the pictures across the table. “I wonder how old they are and who they are and why they were hidden.”
Nick stared intently at the young woman, then at the photos of the children. “Some kid was playing hidden treasure and forgot about it.”
“I disagree. Look at the string and the parcel. It wasn’t tied by a child.”
Nick yawned. “I’ll leave you to your mystery. Too bad it wasn’t money.”
“I don’t need money.” She put her hands on her hips and turned, inspecting the room. “I wonder if there are other hiding places in this house.”
“Just be careful where you put your hands. If you are ever in doubt, call me.”
“I can hardly wait to show Margaret and Herman. They might have some ideas.”
“You’ll make their day. Good night, Nancy Drew.”
Nick placed each foot on one stair before stepping to the next. He didn’t want to end up in a heap at the bottom. He needed to reach the privacy of his jeep. He let out a deep breath.
The woman leaning against the potted fern was his mother. And he was sure the baby in the knitted outfit holding the stuffed dog was him. That dog was in many family photograph albums at the farm. He’d always hoped his mother had reasons to lie.
Where was she? When she left, it was as if she’d vanished. Jack quickly removed all of the photos and his grandmother removed other ornaments or objects that reflected his mother. They never spoke of her again.
Why hadn’t he asked? He might be an orphan by now. Until tonight he hadn’t made the connection, that his biological father, John Good, was dead.
Why did women seek comfort in another man’s arms? Why hadn’t his mother moved in with John? Why hadn’t they kept him as their child? Who else had his mother been intimate with?
When he got home he would strip off this pretend leg and swim until he was exhausted. He had a job to do; to be physically fit and return to the army where he did some real good.
The next morning the old photos were just as Anna had left them across the table. She wondered what they might reveal to her. She lifted each one again in the light of day and turned them over. On the back of the woman’s photograph, she found a faded penciled name, ‘Chris.’
Anna turned on her computer, booted up Google and searched John’s name and the name on the woman’s photograph. Soon she lost time in the abyss of the Internet black hole, and two more hours of sunshine had passed.
Margaret knocked on the door. “Are you alive in there? We’re used to you drinking your coffee on the deck every morning.”
Anna unlatched the summer door and Margaret stepped inside. “Herman was worried. I said you were probably having a lie in.”
“I’m fine. I was on the computer. Come in. I need to show you something.” She led her to the dining room table still scattered with photographs.
Margaret adjusted her glasses and scanned each one. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen these before, but this woman used to live in town.” She didn’t say any more but looked at the young boy holding the dog.
“Does this look like a younger John?” Anna held up the photo of the man on the wooden chair. “Did he always own the property? Did he have any children?”
“The old timers in the town claim John and Tillie didn’t have any children. They say she was sweet, a little forgetful, and she died such a long time ago. John was on his own for many years. We always thought he’d get married again. Women seemed to like him a lot.”
Margaret held one child’s picture in her hand. “Can I take these over to Herman? He might have some answers. Those two old guys spent hours together. Maybe he has something to add.”
“They’re probably nothing. Nick thinks it was a kid who was hiding a treasure and forgot about it.”
On mention of Nick, Margaret’s eyebrows raised. “He’s seen these, has he?”
“He happened to drop by last night just as I was going to put my hand in this secret compartment I found.” Anna crossed to the fireplace. “I pulled out the pictures when he was still here.”
“Did he recognize anyone in particular?”
“No. At least not right away. But I have a feeling something crossed his mind. He concentrated on that same picture you have, and this woman.”
“He’s a good man,” Margaret mumbled, holding onto the picture.
Anna held her hand out for the photograph, unable to explain why she was reluctant to allow it to leave the safety of the walls where it had been hidden for many years.
They heard Herman calling for Margaret. “I’d better go and reassure the darling man you’re alive,” she said. “The heart thing scared him more than he lets on and we’ve been to so many funerals lately.”
“Tell him I’ll be out in a few minutes and he can see for himself I’m alive and well.”
“I’ll just tell him you might have some questions about John. That’ll take his mind off his worries.”
“I’m sure it isn’t anything sinister. We thought, first of all, it might be a hidden stash of money.”
“Some of these old places have dumbwaiters going down into a hole in the ground where they used to keep the butter and milk cool all summer long.” Margaret held the door until it slid into place rather than allow it to slam from the force of its hinges. “Thanks for showing me the pictures.”
Herman sat in the shade, his coffee mug steaming beside his elbow. “Morning Annie, or I should say, almost afternoon.”
She sat across from him. “Margaret told you I was caught up in an Internet search of John Good because of the photographs I discovered.”
“Before I think too much on this subject, I need you to tell me something. I’ll keep it between me and Margaret but it’s important.” He leaned forward.
“I’ll try.” Suddenly the breeze stilled and it seemed the squirrels stopped chattering in the trees.
“Do you know if you are biologically related to John Good?” He spoke quick and low.
She blew out a long-held breath. “I did not come to live here because of a biological connection to John Good.”
“That’s good. My friend John was quite a ladies’ man in the years before he got married and then again in his later years after his wife passed on.” Herman picked up his mug and relaxed in his chair.
The squirrels ran back to the feeder, and then scurried along the wires.
Anna tensed. “What do you mean?”
“In a small town, a widower is special. Widows started dropping off baked goods, soups, casseroles and so on. John always invited them in.” Herman sipped his coffee. “We call it the ‘casserole brigade.’ Some of the other single women, separated or even just unhappy, came over to talk with him. It’s rumored some of his children grew up here and in different towns, you know, because of the vacationers. But there is one for sure who is still here.”