Harriet Beamer Strikes Gold (16 page)

“Maybe even longer than that,” Lily said.

Martha felt a kick under the table she was certain was meant for Lily.

“Let’s just see how far we get before the rains come.”

“Can you still work the mine in the rainy season?”

“You can,” Win said, “but it can get pretty sloppy up in those hills. We’ll play it by ear.”

Harriet finished her coffee. “You know what I remembered?” she said.

“What’s that?” Win asked.

“I remembered you said you had good news too only you never told me.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, well, in a way the good news has already been told and has gotten kind of watered down. I was hoping you’d ask for the good news first.”

“What would you have said?” Harriet asked.

“Yeah, Pop, what would you have said?”

“I would have said that we were moving so much dirt and rock and working so hard that we needed the other backhoe. That is good news. It means we’re getting close. More to dig through. Leastways, that’s what my boys tell me.”

Lily patted her dad’s back. “And the boys are always right, ain’t they, Dad?”

“They sure are, honey. We got some of the best gold hounds on the job.”

Certainly not the news Harriet had hoped to hear, but she’d take it.

Harriet folded her paper napkin and set it in her coffee mug. “Okay, we have lots to do. So maybe we should complete our business.” Harriet pushed the bulging envelope across the table. This time she caught a look in Lily’s eye that she hadn’t really seen before. Surprise? No, it was more like she was looking at something she had no business seeing. But Harriet chalked it up to youth.

Win stuffed the envelope in his pocket. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Hold on a second,” Martha said. “Didn’t Harriet say you had pictures to show her? I’d like to see them.”

“Oh right,” Win said. “Lily has them in that fancy phone of hers. Go on, girl, show the pictures.”

“Martha was hoping maybe we could go visit the mine. You know, at least the section I saw. The creek, or run, I guess, with all the gold dust in it.”

“Afraid that won’t be possible,” Win said. “All that dust has been washed clean away.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Harriet said.

“Sure is,” Win said. “These pictures will have to suffice.”

Lily tapped her phone a couple of times and then tilted the screen so all could see.

Harriet looked at a picture of a funny looking machine sitting in a dirt pile.

“That’s the beast,” Lily said. She swiped through the pictures fast. “This is the backhoe, the one we just got. The sluice box. And this is the main stream.”

Harriet looked at the pictures. They really didn’t look all that different from the ones she had already seen. Martha didn’t say a word. Not a single word.

H
ENRY MANAGED TO COMPLETE ANOTHER CHAPTER EVEN
though his mind kept wandering to thoughts about the babies, money, Prudence, and the coming building project.

Prudence hadn’t called, so Henry was taking that as a good sign that she had gotten past her morning sickness today.

“I hate to throw up, Humphrey. It’s my least favorite thing to do.”

Humphrey said, “Woof.”

“Except in this case, if I could be sick for her, I would be—gladly.” Henry saved his file. “Come on, old man, let’s go out.”

Henry opened the deck doors and Humphrey trotted directly to his second favorite bush. Unfortunately, it was on the side of the house and would probably be dug up when the builders got there Monday.

“Sorry, Humphrey, you might have to find another place.”

Henry stretched his arms over his head. The way the doctor showed him. It was easy to get tired and stiff sitting at his desk all day. This was something he could never understand. Why sitting was tiring. He’d maybe go on a run a little later.

Humphrey was busy sniffing around the grass and trees, even stopping to roll on his back with his tongue lolled out. Henry sat
down at the deck table. The noon sun felt warm and nice on his face. He wasn’t expecting Florence Caldwell, but she showed up.

“Yoo-hoo, Henry,” she called. She carried a pie onto the deck.

“Mrs. Caldwell,” Henry said. He straightened himself up quickly.

“Oh, sit,” she said. “Be comfy. You work hard. Most people don’t know how hard artists work.”

Henry liked the sound of that. Yes. He was an artist. And he did work hard.

“I brought you a strawberry/rhubarb pie,” Mrs. Caldwell said.

“Oh boy,” Henry said. “I could go for a slice right now.”

“Coming right up.” She nodded toward the deck doors.

“Certainly. Mom is in town and Prudence is in Sacramento. I’m by myself today.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Mrs. Caldwell said. “Well, you just sit there, and I’ll get you a slice. Do you have any ice cream? A scoop of vanilla would go just perfectly.”

“We might,” Henry said.

Henry sat down at the table, feeling rather good. He didn’t mind being pampered a little, although if Prudence was there she would have something to say.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Caldwell returned with pie. Two slices. She sat down at the table.

“Thank you,” Henry said. He tasted the pie. It was, of course, delicious. “You know, if I open a restaurant, you will come bake pies for me, won’t you?”

“Why, Henry, are you thinking about doing that? I didn’t know you were a chef.”

“Thinking about it, yes. I love to cook, and everyone says I have a knack for it. But I would have to go to culinary school.”

“What about your books?”

He swallowed. “Oh, I’d still write, but with the babies coming
and all, I’ve been worried about money. I like the idea of a steady income.”

“Only natural,” she said. “But Mr. Caldwell and I always found that somehow we’d get by. No matter what. You watch. You’ll do fine. Wait a minute, did you say babies? As in more than one?”

“Yes. We’re expecting twins. I guess you haven’t heard.”

“No, I hadn’t. That is exciting news.” She hugged Henry. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Caldwell.”

It was nearly three o’clock by the time Harriet and Martha arrived home, groceries and donuts in hand. Harriet figured Henry would be busy in the den and she didn’t want to disturb him, so Harriet and Martha carried all the groceries inside. Well, with Humphrey’s help. He kept close to her ankles. He was looking for the donuts and she knew it.

“Okay, okay. I didn’t forget. Let me get my sneakers off and some of this cold stuff put away.”

Harriet put the fish and raspberries in the fridge while Martha helped to empty bags. Humphrey whimpered and stared at the last bag.

“He really loves those donuts,” Martha said.

“He does. It’s the craziest thing. He would eat the whole dozen.”

“You better not let him, dear. Only Prudence is eating for two … er, I mean three.”

After giving Humphrey his donut, Martha suggested more coffee and Harriet happily agreed. “I bet the aroma will flush Henry out of his cave.”

“You must be very proud of him,” Harriet said.

“I am,” Harriet said. She dropped a filter into the coffeemaker. “But … sometimes I still feel a little disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“I just wish he had kept Max’s business. I think they would be doing much better. No matter what he says.”

“Not for you to say. He has to be who he is. And I think he’s doing terrific.”

“I know.” Harriet sat down at the table and broke a glazed donut in two. She bit one side and chewed. “Sometimes I feel bad because he did it so sneakily. Didn’t tell me until the papers were signed.”

“He was afraid of hurting you.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

Harriet stopped chewing and swallowed a large chunk of donut. “You mean you knew—all along?”

“Not all along. But yeah, I knew. I’m sorry, Harriet, but we both thought it would be better if you didn’t know. Henry had to do it. He was miserable.”

“No excuse. Max wasn’t always thrilled to go to work, but he did it because he had to.”

“Harriet. Isn’t it better to have a happy son?”

“I suppose. But, I can’t seem to let this go. He’s an artist. Just like you. Just like Lily.”

“Lily?” Martha said.

“Yeah, she told me she draws but doesn’t have much time for it anymore.”

“And I bet you encouraged her.”

Harriet nodded. “Sure, but … okay, I see where this is going.”

“Right,” Martha said.

“But what about Wyatt? Is he doing what you hoped and planned and dreamed he would?”

“So how is Humphrey adjusting?” Martha asked as she rubbed him behind his ears. “I know he’s been here longer than you, but it’s still a big change.”

“I think he loves it out here. He has a much bigger yard than we had back home, and I think he likes having Henry around. They’ve really bonded.”

Martha kissed the dog on the nose.

“He’s not too crazy about Sandra Day, though,” Harriet said. “That silly cat tortures him.”

“I’ll bet. The cat does come across a bit uppity.”

“Okay, Martha,” Harriet said. “Enough stalling.”

Martha seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the kitchen. “I have to tell you something.”

Harriet’s heart sank. She did not like the tone of Martha’s voice. “Uh oh, what’s wrong? Does it have anything to do with that doctor’s visit you told me about when I was on my trip?”

“No, that was a lie. A smokescreen. I actually had something much worse to do.”

Harriet leaned closer toward her friend. “Martha, you’re scaring me. What is it?”

Harriet pushed some stray hairs out of her eyes. “It’s … it’s Wyatt.”

“Wyatt? What’s wrong with him?”

“Well, nothing, really. At least not physically. He got himself into some trouble.”

“What kind of trouble? Financial? Does he need money? I’ve got money.”

“No, no, not exactly.”

“Come on, Martha, spill it.”

“He’s in prison. That day you called, I was on my way to court.”

Harriet swallowed. Her first impulse was to laugh, thinking it was a joke, but the seriousness of Martha’s tone made her think it was no joke.

“Martha? Why? What happened?”

Martha picked at her donut, and then she slipped it to Humphrey.

“Tell me what happened,” Harriet said. “What on earth could he have done? He was always such a quiet, gentle kid.”

“He got himself mixed up with drugs and ended up committing armed robbery.”

Harriet fell back in her chair. “No. Really? But when?”

“This happened while you were on your trip. I didn’t want to tell you while you were traveling. In fact, I didn’t really know anything until the police came and arrested him. Right from my house. They just came inside and took my son. The next thing I knew, he was in jail. They gave him fifteen years. Fifteen years!”

Harriet did some quick calculations. She guessed that Wyatt would be in his mid-forties, maybe older, before he was eligible for parole.

“Oh, Martha, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were going through that. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have ended my trip and come back to be with you.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. There was nothing you could have done. He confessed to the crime.”

Martha looked like she wanted to cry. To just break down and sob for days. Harriet could feel her pain. It was like a million pounds of weight resting on Martha’s shoulders. If only Harriet could take that away.

“Go on, cry, if you want,” Harriet said. “It’s okay.”

Martha sniffed, and then she cried. Not for long. A minute or two. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “He’s gone, Harriet. My son is gone.”

Harriet’s mind had gone completely wild as she imagined all sorts of possible scenarios. She also knew it would be best to get the facts. Just the facts, as Sergeant Friday always said.

So Harriet scooted her chair over and she and Martha sat
close together for the next few minutes while Martha told her the story.

“And so, like an idiot, he was high on … on something at the time, thought he was the Incredible Hulk or something, and he burst into the drugstore and held a gun to the clerk’s head.”

Harriet gasped. “How awful.”

“But here’s the stupid part. The gun was not even loaded. Wyatt said he couldn’t bring himself to actually load the thing.”

Harriet shook her head. She knew Wyatt was not the brightest crayon in the box, but she had no idea he was just plain stupid.

“I’m sorry, Martha. Do you go visit him much? How’s he doing? Don’t they have programs?”

Martha practically fell off her chair, she laughed so hard. “So-called programs. They don’t help much. He goes to counseling and rehab meetings. He’s clean now. Or getting there.”

Harriet chuckled. Clean. It was such a street term. One she never thought she’d hear one of her friends use in connection to a child, unless it meant the usual thing—clean as in scrubbing behind his ears.

Harriet hugged her friend and then kissed her forehead. “I don’t really know what I can say. I don’t think there is anything except that I’m here for you and Wyatt. I know he wasn’t in his right mind.”

“Oh, he knows he did wrong. He’s very remorseful, but like we all know, life choices have consequences, and just because you say you’re sorry doesn’t free you from those consequences.”

“But fifteen years? For a first offense? The gun wasn’t loaded.”

“The judge was pretty mad. And it wasn’t exactly a first offense.”

Harriet shook her head. “Oh no, there’s more?”

“Just little things. But it added up. Shoplifting. Vandalism. Stupid stuff. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone. Even you.”

“Maybe Prudence can do something.” Harriet felt her heart quicken. “Yes, she’s a lawyer. Maybe she can help.”

“No. Please, don’t tell her. The sentence is set. His lawyer has appealed and done all the necessary things. It’s going to stick.”

Martha wiped away tears. “I couldn’t tell you but his sentencing date was two days after you left. I thought you might not leave if I told you. But the bottom line is, he did the crime.”

“Who did what crime?” Henry stood near the refrigerator, looking a little surprised.

“Henry,” Martha said. “We thought you’d smell the coffee.”

“And the donuts? I don’t know why, but I’ve been so hungry lately. Especially for sweets.”

“I do,” Harriet said. She winked at Martha.

Harriet fed the other half of her glazed donut to Humphrey and laughed. “Sympathy cravings.”

“What?”

“Do you think you might be a tad jealous?” Martha asked.

“What? I am not jealous. Of Prudence? No way. I’m thrilled.”

“She didn’t say you weren’t thrilled to pieces. But look, son, it’s perfectly normal for an expecting daddy to take on some … well, symptoms while his wife is pregnant.”

Henry laughed. “That’s crazy, Mom. I am not having symptoms.” He seemed to stare off into space for a second.

Humphrey said, “Woof.”

“Well, I was a little sick to my stomach this morning.” Martha laughed. “I think it’s sweet.”

Henry poured himself a cup of coffee and added a splash of Half and Half. He grabbed a donut. “So. What crime?”

“I might as well tell you,” Martha said, and she proceeded to tell Henry the whole story about Wyatt. Henry pretty much listened, stunned.

“I don’t believe it. He was always a good kid.”

“I know,” Martha said.

“Should I call him? Can I call him?”

“You can write,” Martha said.

Henry touched his stomach. “Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that glazed donut on top of the pie.”

“Pie?” Harriet said. “What pie?”

“Florence brought over a strawberry/rhubarb.”

Harriet shook her head.