Family Matters (9 page)

S
tan put the receiver down slowly. He wished Gracie was home. He needed to talk to her about Charlotte. Rubbing his jaw, he stood by the phone, pondering his next decision. He picked up the portable phone again and then put it down.

With Shirley gone, a weight should have lifted from his shoulders. It was a weight that had been there for way too many years. But the pain of losing Charlotte had never dissipated. The guilt and questions remained. He’d been afraid of the truth since the accident, but now he needed to know.  Didn’t Charlotte deserve some justice after all these years?

Stan could still clearly see the large dent in the grillwork of Shirley’s car the morning after Charlotte’s death. She said Isabelle had hit a deer and they needed to get it repaired quickly. In the numbness of grief and haze of funeral arrangements, the car had been repaired before the funeral service. Shirley hadn’t wanted to discuss the car or report it to the insurance company. He’d put in the claim with Howard though. Shirley had been stoic and in control during the funeral and the investigation. How could he have been so weak? He’d let Shirley make too many decisions, and now he was left with a pile of regret.

He was too tired to deal with Isabelle anymore, and by giving Gracie the information, he knew he had disturbed a hornet’s nest. He needed to explain to her the suspicions he’d carried around for 20 years. Why wasn’t she home?

Stan took the phone into the living room and sat heavily into the deep-cushioned, buttery leather club chair. He thought about getting a beer, but he needed to think clearly. The pain he so often anesthetized with alcohol would keep him sharp tonight. He punched in the numbers again. He looked at his watch. It was almost nine. After four rings, the call went to Gracie’s answering machine. He decided to leave a message, although he hated talking to a machine.

Stan leaned his head back against the comfortable chair and closed his eyes. He jerked awake to find that it was after 9:30. He’d call her in the morning.

The yard and kennel area looked normal when Gracie drove into her driveway. Haley bounded out of the back seat and loped to the office door with Gracie. It still felt creepy, even though all seemed secure. Goose bumps raised on her arms when she unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. She was grateful for the lingering twilight that still glowed in the western sky. Her fingers were actually shaking as she punched in the code. She took a deep breath and tried to get her heart to slow down.             

“Let’s take one more look around before we go in, girl.”

Haley waved her straight, broad black tail in agreement. A chorus of whining and barking began the moment they walked through the doorway to the runs. Everybody and everything did look fine as she checked each run.

“Well, boys and girls, sleep tight. Come on, Haley.” She tried to keep her voice lighthearted, but the words caught in her throat. Gracie switched the main corridor light off. She suddenly felt the need to get inside her house and lock herself in. She carefully set the code before locking the door.

“Come on, Haley, race you to the kitchen.” She took off with Haley who sprang ahead of her with ease. The shiny Lab leapt up the steps and then down again, butt-tucking in circles before she flopped on the ground at Gracie’s feet.

“Girl, you are a clown.” Gracie was laughing hard at the typical Lab comedic antics, one of the endearing qualities of the breed. “Let’s go in before the mosquitoes eat us up.”

Haley trotted through the kitchen door and headed for the cool tiles.

The message light was blinking on the answering machine. Gracie groaned. Isabelle had probably left another message. Maybe her mother was right, and she should give everything back to Isabelle. She had copies now, but she still wanted to talk to Uncle Stan before that happened. There was a reason he gave it to her and no one else. She’d listen to it later.

After a long hot shower and cup of tea, she relaxed watching the local news. The light on the answering machine was in her direct line of vision. The blinking was making her crazy. She punched the button to listen to the playback.

“Hey, Gracie, it’s Uncle Stan. Say, uh
… I’d like to talk, uh… to you about those books. Maybe you can, uh… give me a call.” His speech was halting, and he sounded stressed.

“That call I
will
return,” she said out loud grabbing the handset. Then she looked at her watch. It was 10:15. Uncle Stan would either be still playing cards or in bed. She’d make a point of seeing him tomorrow and get some answers. She also needed to check on Beth and talk with the deputy investigating the robbery. Her head began a familiar throb.
I need to just take things one at a time. Why didn’t things happen one at a time instead of in batches? That old saying about things happening in threes should have said things happen in fours or fives.

The ibuprofen bottle was on the kitchen counter, and she quickly downed four tablets to ward off a full-blown headache. She checked to make sure the kitchen door was
locked and then settled in with the diary and clippings. There must be something funny about the investigation, or Uncle Stan wouldn’t have given her all of this information. Gracie reread the newspaper clippings and the police report. Everything looked so ordinary. There wasn’t anything that jumped out and shouted cover up or that the sheriff’s department had botched the investigation. She flipped the diary open to the October entries.

Oct. 4 – I’m going to have to talk to Mother. I don’t know how I can tell her. Maybe I’ll talk to Dad first.

Oct. 8 – Talked to Dad, but I couldn’t tell him everything. There’s no way I can talk to Mother. I don’t know what I’ll do. I wish I was dead. I wish I’d never believed him.

Gracie’s throat constricted at Charlotte’s pain and her prophetic statement. She drew her legs up and hugged herself. A list of questions flooded her mind. How much did Isabelle know? Who was the father? What had Uncle Stan and Aunt Shirley known? But the big question was still, why had Uncle Stan handed this to her?

Her racing mind would never settle down to let her sleep, so she made a trip to the medicine cabinet again. Looking at the pills in her hand, she almost put them back in the bottle. But she didn’t. The pills slid down easily with the glass of cold water. When had medication become such a routine? Migraines and panic attacks had all come after Michael’s death. It would be two years in August. Why couldn’t she hold it together? Maybe running another business was a mistake. Jim had been hesitant about the kennel. He loved dairy farming, but he’d agreed to sell the farm and be a partner in the new venture. It hadn’t been fair to him. He was only doing this to keep her happy. She should get a job where there was no responsibility. No pressure. Something mindless would be good. Life insurance and the sale of the farm had left her without the pressure of even having to work—at least for a while. Jim could get back to farming where he was truly happy. She could just get on with her life without so much drama and relying on Jim for everything. It was time for a real conversation with him. No emotional outbursts or demands. She was sick of her behavior, and so was everyone else. Her parents tiptoed around her, and probably everyone else did too. She huffed at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Opening the medicine cabinet, she took the brown plastic container, unscrewed the lid, and dumped the remaining pills into the toilet. Staring at them floating around in the water, Gracie bit her bottom lip and flushed. It was time to get back to real life.

H
aley jumped in the back seat and sat on her red plaid blanket, while Gracie finished loading the front seat with the bank bag and her Lab tote. She tucked a grocery list under the visor strap.

“Sorry, girl.
You need to stay home today. Too many errands, and it’s too hot in the car.”

Haley whined in disappointment, but her tail still wagged furiously.

“I know, but I’ll be back soon. You can play in the backyard.”

Haley jumped out and ran to the gate.

“Be good, and I’ll bring you a new bone.” Haley’s tail thumped heavily on the white vinyl fencing. Gracie gave Haley’s rump a scratch and opened the gate.

After dropping the bank bag in the night deposit slot, she turned onto Route 19A toward Warsaw to do her grocery shopping. The next priority was to spend a little time with Uncle Stan to get things sorted out. Then she’d talk to Jim.

Tops supermarket was bustling with harried moms and whiny kids, who wanted to be anywhere else but grocery shopping. Summer didn’t last long in Western New York, and good weather weekends were precious. No one wasted a minute of summer. Gracie hoped she could get through the aisles without running into anyone from Deer Creek. Of course, that was wishful thinking.

“Hi, Gracie.” It was Gloria Minders.

“Hi.” Gracie pretended to study the label on a jar of spaghetti sauce.

“The kennel has had quite a week.”

“Sure has.” Gracie grabbed another jar of sauce and stared at the list of ingredients. Why was she giving the silent treatment to her pastor’s wife? Where
was the new Gracie Andersen she’d committed herself to last night? She turned and smiled at Gloria. “We’ll get through it.”

“We’re praying that things work out and that Beth is all right.”

“I talked with her mother this morning, and Beth is doing well. She’s home and on the mend. But more prayer is always appreciated.”

“I’m glad to hear she’s doing all right.” Gloria put six boxes of spaghetti in her cart. She grabbed several large jars of sauce and added them to the load.

“Looks like you’re planning on a big dinner.”

“Yes, it’s our turn to host the County Clergy’s Association dinner this week. I’m cooking. Midge is supplying the dessert.

“I guess you’ll be busy with that.” Gracie made an attempt to wheel her cart around Gloria’s.

Gloria moved her cart aside and then patted Gracie’s arm as she went past her.

“I will. Preachers always seem to have good appetites,” she laughed. “Have you found anyone to replace Beth yet? I’m sure you need help during this time of year.” Her face showed concern.

“We’re looking, but so far no applicants.”

“I might have some help for you.”

Gracie groaned inwardly. She didn’t want another ex-con on staff.

“I’m sorry, but probably not from your program. No offense,” she added quickly “We hired Joe on a trial basis. I don’t know if he’ll work out yet. I really need a person who has experience with dogs.”

“We’ve got people from all walks of life. I’m sure we’ve got some clients that have experience with animals. Second Chances will work with the employer to get more
job training, if it’s needed.” Gloria’s mouth was pressed into a firm line, and her eyes shone with excitement.

“Let me send a couple of people over on Monday. Just talk to them and see if they’re a good fit.”

Gracie sighed. She didn’t need to hire any of them, so why fight?

“Sure, OK. Look at the posting we have on the Deer Creek Help Wanted website and see if you have any qualified people.” With any luck, she’d have a line of non-criminal applicants Monday morning, so the Second Chances people could be dismissed before an interview.

“Wonderful! I’ll have the counselors send their best people on Monday. You won’t regret this, Gracie.” Gloria pushed the shopping cart toward the checkout lines with unexpected speed.

“Thanks, Gloria.” Gracie shook her head and continued to tick items off her list as she hurried through the rest of the store. Fortunately, no one else appeared from Deer Creek, and the dreaded grocery shopping was finished.

She pressed her foot down on the accelerator as the SUV climbed Rock Glen Hill on Route 19 in record time. There was still a lot to do on her list. Flashing lights suddenly appeared in her rear view mirror, and she glanced at the speedometer.

“Just great,” she said aloud.

She pulled over on the gravelly shoulder. The deputy put on his hat as he stepped out the patrol car with lights still flashing.

“Could I see your license and registration, ma’am?” He took off his dark sunglasses.

Gracie gasped in surprise to see that Deputy Stevens stood by her window. He was even better looking in the daylight. His uniform fit perfectly.

“Sure thing, deputy.
Uh, remember me?”

             
He smiled in recognition.

“Sure do. Mrs. Andersen, right?”

“Right. Was I speeding, Deputy?” His eyes were a dark blue, and his arms were well-muscled. He must work out regularly.

“Well, I clocked you about 10 miles over the speed limit back there.”

She gulped. “Sorry about that. Not paying attention, I guess. You know, I haven’t seen a copy of the break-in report yet. Is there any progress?” She reached in the glove box to grab the registration and insurance card, hoping that they were there and not expired.

“It’s all finished, but no real leads. There was another break-in at Silver Lake, and some computer equipment was stolen, so we’re checking that one out too. Weren’t you going to pick up a copy?” The deputy quickly scanned the two cards Gracie handed to him.

“Yes, but things got crazy at the kennel, and I haven’t had a chance to get it. Could it be mailed to me?” She flashed her best repentant smile.

“Sure, I’ll see if Administration can get that out to you on Monday. Well, Mrs. Andersen, why don’t we forgo the ticket today, and you just make a promise to slow down?” His smile was amazingly attractive, and he sure did look good in that uniform.

Gracie swallowed hard. “Sure thing, Deputy Stevens. I appreciate that.”

“No problem. Just so you know we’re making sure a nightly patrol goes past your kennel. We’re keeping an eye on things. Just call us if you see or hear anything suspicious.”

Nodding, she rolled up the window while watching the deputy get into the patrol car in her rear view mirror. Her heart was beating like a drum, and she gripped the steering wheel to keep her hands steady. Was it the deputy or almost getting a ticket? Maybe a little of both. She wouldn’t mind if Deputy Stevens made the nightly patrol. Gracie mentally shook herself. It was the first time another man had entered her head since Michael’s death. Was she moving on or just lonely? The deputy touched the brim of his hat as he pulled around Gracie. She waved and then slid the gearshift into drive. She wasn’t sure if she liked the feeling she had just experienced, but, then again, she hadn’t gotten a ticket either. Things were looking up.

She dropped the groceries off at the house and turned back for town to see Uncle Stan. There was no answer when she tried calling him on her cell, but he might be on the back porch, enjoying a cold one or snoozing. His car was in the driveway when she pulled up. There was no answer to the doorbell and the newspaper lay in front of the door. She walked around to the backyard to check the porch, but there was no sign of him. Two empty brown bottles stood on the glass-topped, circular metal table, and the ABA Journal was on the chair. The screen door was unlocked, so Gracie stepped into the big country kitchen and called out. No answer. A greasy frying pan sat on a cold burner, and there was a little coffee left in the glass carafe under the coffee maker. She could hear the TV in the living room. Uncle Stan must be passed out in front of the TV again. She pushed the swinging door from the kitchen and stepped into the large sunlit dining room. The half-walls and white columns at the end of the dining room led to the foyer, which opened to the curved staircase opposite the living room. The announcers for the Yankees game were discussing a double play.

“Hey, Uncle Stan, are you awake? It’s Gracie.”

Gracie stopped short as she passed through the opening to the foyer. Her legs froze, and she couldn’t quite take in the scene in front of her. The familiar surroundings were suddenly foreign and surreal. The floor lurched and
rose up to meet her. She grabbed at the large oak newel post at the end of the curved banister.

“Uncle Stan,” she groaned.

Stan lay at the bottom of the stairs; his eyes wide open as if he were surprised. His left leg was twisted back at an unnatural angle.

Gracie couldn’t get her breath, and her throat felt like it was closing up. She dropped to her knees, stretching her fingers toward the still form. She drew back her hand and ran outside.