A Roux of Revenge (25 page)

Joe shrugged again. “I think that’s why I liked Nate Edgerton as soon as I met him. He seems like a very competent officer. A real down-to-earth man.”

“Oh, yes. He is. Nate’s been
our Chief of Police for many years.”

“You’re good friends, then—in such a small village.”

“Well, we’re friendly of course. His wife, Susanna, is a good friend of mine and my sister as well. She comes into the shop a lot, so we get to chat frequently.”

“Ah,” Joe replied, pouring more wine for Cecily.

She took another sip. She thought it was a good thing Marjorie wasn’t here to see
her drinking a second glass of wine. Marjorie probably wouldn’t have approved even the first.

“I’m very grateful that Nate has taken me into his confidence as much as he has. Of course,” Joe looked across the table, “there are things he’s doing that he doesn’t feel free to tell me, I’m sure, but he’s certainly included me a little bit in his investigation and treated me with respect, even
though I’m no longer active.”

“I’m sure he’s considered your . . . belief . . .” Cecily trailed off.

Joe smiled and shook his head. “My hunch, you mean.” He smiled. Cecily noticed a faint hint of dimples in Joe’s cheeks. The light from the chandeliers cast a silvery glow over his gray hair. She was definitely feeling a little warm and dizzy from the wine.

“Your hunch.” Cecily smiled
widely at Joe’s self-deprecating remark. “That this body, this poor man they found, could be one of the robbers from years ago.”

“Well, it’s only a possibility, mind you. But I’m a big believer in trusting my nose, my instincts. For example, this van that was stolen . . . such bad luck for Nate.”

“Oh yes. I saw Susanna in the shop just this morning. She told me Nate was apoplectic about
it. She worries about him a lot—his health, you know. She doesn’t like to see him stress so much.”

“I can understand that.” He smiled. “My wife used to worry about me a lot too.” A wave of sadness passed over his face. “I was a lot older than she. I always thought I’d be the first to go. But I guess life is like that. What you think is going to happen never does, and then life hits you with
a curveball. She was the one to go first.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Joe. You must miss her very much.”

Joe nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s been a lot of years now, but it still comes to me every now and then, what a hole it’s left in my life. I can understand why Nate’s wife worries about him. He has a very stressful job, and stress takes its toll. He’s not a young man anymore. He
has to be careful, and that was a tremendous blow to his investigation.”

“Oh, I know!” Cecily breathed. “The technicians managed to dust for fingerprints, but they never had a chance to really search the van before it was stolen. That’s why Nate was so upset. Susanna said Nate had a suspicion there might have been something in that van the murderer was looking for. That’s why he was so fit
to be tied.”

Joe shook his head. “Terrible.” Joe poured another glass for himself and for Cecily. “Nate’s such a hard-working guy, but he’s subject to the inefficiency of another jurisdiction. It’s too bad Snowflake doesn’t have its own crime lab.”

“I don’t think our little village is big enough to warrant something like that. That’s why we have to rely on Lincoln Falls for all those services.”

“Well, I think Snowflake is one of the most charming places I’ve visited in a long time.”

“You do?”

Joe nodded. “In fact, I plan to say for a little while longer.” He hesitated and leaned closer. “Don’t say anything to anyone just yet. You’re the only one I’m confiding in, but I’m thinking of selling my house in Bennington. It’s too big and lonesome for me there with my children all
grown up and gone, and my wife too. I just rattle around all day when I’m home. I’d like to sell that house and look for a small cottage somewhere in Snowflake.”

Cecily could already picture a future dinner date with Joe, perhaps many such evenings. “Oh,” she gushed, “that would be wonderful. You would love living in Snowflake!”

“I’m sure I would.” Joe reached across the table and gently
touched her hand. “In fact, I know I would.”

Chapter 36

M
IRIAM WAITED NEAR
the entrance to the corn maze, now shut down for the night. The smaller children had been taken home, tucked up safely in bed by their parents. All except her child.
Nothing changes when they grow older and bigger
, she thought.
Nothing changes at all
. The same piercing of the heart when harsh words are spoken, when that child rejects a parent’s love and concern. She remembered Millie, her husband’s mother, teaching her to read. Millie didn’t stop with schoolbooks and everyday fiction. She had been a teacher in her younger years and made up her mind that Miriam must
be thoroughly educated. They had read Shakespeare together. At first it had been very hard for Miriam to extract meaning from the Bard’s English, but after a while the words came much more smoothly along with comprehension of the levels of meaning beneath the words. It was
King Lear
that came to her now.
“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.”

She had carried
her burden of guilt for the past eighteen years, the burden of telling lies to a daughter she loved more than life itself. But what should she have done? Told the truth at some point as that daughter grew? Many times she had been tempted, but she had been fearful her confession might break the bond between her husband and her daughter. A bond she herself cherished and had no desire to injure. And
the interminable questions that would eventually come. Where are you from? Who are your parents? Where did you live? How did you live? It wasn’t until she had joined normal society, a world in which everyone lived in houses, everyone that counted, that she became ashamed of her own people. She wanted to escape the oppression of a society dominated by men like her father, with rules that would coerce
her to marry a man she didn’t love and separate her from the man she did—a man who ultimately betrayed her and abandoned her.

She watched him now, onstage, so confident, so happy. A tidal wave of anger threatened to overwhelm her. He had found her. He had left that forget-me-not in an envelope for her to find in her own mailbox. How could he? And how did he know about Janie? He must have seen
her somewhere. Followed her. Watched the house. Must have seen who came and went. One glance at Janie and he would know she was his daughter. Had he ever married? she wondered. Had he fathered other children? If so, why torment her now, after all this time? Let him leave this child alone.

Coming here was her last resort. She had spent hours at the police station with Nate, going over everything
she could possibly tell him. Everything except the real reason that she and Janie had fought. Whatever happened, she did not want her history to be public knowledge. If only Janie would see reason, would come home to her, they could work it out. Miriam would convince Janie that no one would ever have to know she was conceived out of wedlock, that her parents were travelers, that her father still
was.

Eamon must have taken her. What other explanation could there be? Had he become a domineering male as her father had been? Janie would never have done this to her, disappeared without a word to a friend or a phone call to her job. Whatever harsh words had passed between them, Janie loved her, of that she was certain. Janie might be angry, but she had to hope there was a way to work this
out.

The last song ended. The crowd had been thinning as the musicians played. A woman held a stand-up bass. She played lightning fast, her bow flying over the strings as the banjo beat a fast tempo. Miriam watched the people onstage closely. With a shock she realized the woman was Eamon and Taran’s sister, Deidre. At first she hadn’t recognized her, but they had been close as girls, had played
together as children. How the years had changed her! It was a hard life staying on the road, being in fear of arrest, not always able to find medical or dental care. Miriam glanced down at her manicured nails, her perfectly cut hair, her expensive clothing, expensive to them at least. What would they think of her if she came forward? If she decided to reveal herself? She imagined the shock she
would see in their eyes. But perhaps they already knew she was here in Snowflake. Perhaps Eamon had told them.

She tried to imagine how it would feel meeting them face to face again. Then she quickly dismissed the idea. She had no desire to speak to any of her former family. There was only Janie for her now. Janie was her family, not these strangers who sang in an almost forgotten language,
a Gàidhlig she herself had spoken years before.

She had to know if Janie was with them, if Eamon had taken her. Was it possible that, out of curiosity, Janie had gone to see her father? But Miriam couldn’t imagine how that could be.

The musicians were packing up their instruments, winding up cords and moving equipment across the stage. Miriam walked around the far side of the pony corral
and skirted the edge of the stage, keeping well away so that no one would notice her. She reached the area behind the stage and close to the trees where the vans were parked. She had to pick her moment carefully. Coming here was a very long shot, but she had no other place to search for her daughter. She heard voices calling, and she quickly stepped behind a large tree trunk. She was desperate
to find Janie, but first she needed to make sure Janie was not already with them. A woman she didn’t recognize descended the short stairway from the backstage area and approached one of the vans. She unlocked the rear doors and pulled them open, then returned to the stage.

Eamon came down the stairs next, carrying an amplifier in one hand. He was still tall and strong, but she had seen streaks
of gray in his hair highlighted by the stage lighting. He loaded the amp into the rear of the van and stepped away.

Miriam called his name. He turned, looking all around. She stepped out into the moonlight and waited. He froze, instantly alert. She knew he had recognized her.

He hurried toward her. “Morag!”

Miriam backed away, terrified to allow him to come any closer.

“Morag.
I knew you’d come.”

Miriam turned away and walked farther into the field. Eamon followed. Her emotions were a jumble. A tornado was ravaging her insides.

“Morag, speak to me. Please,” he pleaded.

She felt as if a hand had closed around her throat. She wasn’t sure she would be able to speak. She swallowed with difficulty. “My name is Miriam now.” She watched him carefully. He continued
to stare at her. “How did you find me?” she finally asked.

Eamon took a few steps closer. “It was by accident.” His voice was so low she could barely make out the words. “We were driving through town. I saw you coming out of a shop. I couldn’t believe my eyes.” He drank in the sight of her. They stood, staring at each other like strangers.

Miriam thought her heart would stop. She was paralyzed.
Her heart was racing. “My name is Miriam now.” She repeated it, as if it would give her strength. Her voice was cold. How dare he threaten to break through the defenses it had taken her years to build?

Eamon stood in the silvery moonlight, silent. In the distance she could see movement around the vans. Soon they would be looking for him.

“Have you taken her?” Miriam demanded.

Eamon
stared at her. He was silent for a moment. “I . . . I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“My daughter!” she cried. “Have . . . you . . . taken . . . her?”

“What? No!” he shouted. “What’s happened? Where is she?”

“That’s what I need to know. For God’s sake, Eamon. If you have an ounce of compassion in your heart, tell me the truth.” Miriam felt hot tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Oh, Morag!” He moved closer, aching to put his arms around her and comfort her. He felt as if his chest had broken apart. “
Thoir mionnan air mo bheatha
. I swear on my life, Morag. I have not, nor would I. I knew the moment I saw you . . . and her. I knew she was our daughter. I could never harm a hair on her head.”

“You were watching her,” Miriam said accusingly.

Eamon took a deep breath.
“I have. That’s the truth.” One look at the girl and he knew she was of his blood. His and Morag’s. “I wanted . . . I don’t know . . . to see her, to hear her voice. It broke my heart, Morag. I never knew. Please forgive me. I never knew.”

“That day . . . that you didn’t come. I didn’t know myself until a few months later.” Miriam pulled her jacket closer, protection against the evening chill,
protection from
him
. “What difference would it have made if you knew? You abandoned me. What matter that I was pregnant?” There. She had said it. It was small satisfaction for all the times she had alternately cursed him and loved him in absentia. She had never dreamed the day would come when she would have the chance to face him and accuse him. All the longing and heartbreak she had felt for
years threatened to overwhelm her. He had left that flower for her. How could he be so cruel as to tear that wound open again?