Lover's Knot (33 page)

She traced a figure eight. “Like what?”

“Like the size of the houses they can build. And the clearing they’ll be allowed to do. And the roads they’ll widen so property owners can get in and out.” He explained his reaction to the news from start to finish, and when he was done, he realized he had lightened his emotional load.

“I can see why you’re unhappy.”

“Things used to be easier. Compromises didn’t bother me the way this one does. As long as a solution seemed ethical, I’d move ahead without looking back.”

This revelation was so unlike him that apparently Kendra didn’t know what to say. “Now I second-guess myself a lot,” he finished.

“Why?”

He turned to look at her. “Because of you. Because of what happened to you, and your coming here.”

Again, he could tell she didn’t know how to respond. He reached up and touched her cheek; then he cupped it and brought her lips to his. After the kiss ended, she snuggled against him, head on his shoulder.

“When did life get so complicated?” he asked. “Or has it always been this complicated and I just refused to notice?”

“Maybe you noticed when you were a boy. But the only way to move ahead was to ignore the complications and the feelings that went with them. You made plans. You moved forward. You made more plans, and finally got yourself into a situation where you had some control.”

He thought about that. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Then one night a crazy man shot me. At first we blamed each other. But when it comes right down to it, Isaac,
neither
of us was to blame. The thing is, there’s a lot we can’t control. I’ve been thinking of the quilt your grandmother left you. Lover’s Knot. Life’s like that. It’s a silk cord. Everything goes along smoothly, then, suddenly, there’s a knot. Either you have to untie it and smooth the cord again, or you have to look closely to see why it’s there. Because sometimes a knot holds a cord together and makes it stronger, and sometimes it’s a hurdle that can’t be overcome.”

He stroked her hair, twirling a curl around his index finger. He asked the question that was uppermost in his mind these days. “Is our knot going to make our relationship stronger?”

“I hope so.”

He took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. They were quiet for a while. He could hear her soft breathing, but he knew she wasn’t asleep.

“Do you want to hear about another knot?” she asked at last.

“Let’s pile on the complications.”

She laughed. “Maybe this should wait. It’s about your family.”

He could have predicted this. “What more have you discovered?”

He listened as she told him everything she’d learned.

“So far, I haven’t heard a bit of proof your grandmother murdered your grandfather,” she finished. “Or even that he was one of the bodies in that cave. All I know is that Leah became friends with a man named Daniel Flaherty, and some people in Lock Hollow believed that caused problems with Jesse. And that’s as far as it goes.”

“So are you at a dead end? No pun intended.”

“Isaac, I’ve just told you a pretty sad tale. You must have some feeling about it.”

He did feel sad. And he supposed that was one of the consequences of intimacy. “Haven’t I ‘shared’ enough tonight?” He tried to say it lightly.

She punched his shoulder. “I’m panning for gold here, and I’m working harder after that first unbelievable strike.”

“It doesn’t matter for me,” he said. “But it mattered to Leah and Rachel, didn’t it. It infected their lives.”

“It infected yours, as well. If Rachel hadn’t suspected her mother of murder, she might never have left here, never had you and given you away.”

“You’re determined to make what happened in that hollow seventy years ago relevant to my life, aren’t you.”

“Leah thought it was, Isaac. Don’t you see? That’s why she left you this cabin. That’s why she left you that quilt.”

“Then why didn’t she just write down the story and leave it with her stepson to give me if he ever found me? Why this treasure hunt? With a prize I’m not too keen on accepting.”

She pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “I’ve thought about it a lot. Leah lost everything when she moved from Lock Hollow. She lost her husband and sister, although we’re not quite sure how that came about. She lost her friends, her neighbors, her home and land.”

“And?”

“The point is that she lost every connection she ever had. That silk cord that was her life? Severed beyond repair. And she had to come here and start all over again. It must have been so hard. Your mother suffered for it, too. So nobody understood better than Leah what it was like to feel alone, with no history, no roots. When she heard Rachel had given up a child for adoption, I think she was afraid that, one day, that child would feel the same way.”

“That might explain why she wanted to find me, but not why she didn’t just set all this down for me to read.”

“Because she didn’t know anything about you. I bet she hoped your life had been so happy you felt no need for your birth family. If so, the quilt would simply be a curiosity, the land a nice nest egg. But if it wasn’t happy, if you needed the connections, then she made certain the clues were there to follow. All you ever had to do was the simplest detective work, and check out some of the names. They would have led you right back to Lock Hollow.”

“Where I would discover that my grandmother was a murderer.”

Kendra kissed him, as if to take away the sting. “You see, that’s the thing. I don’t think that’s what you
will
find if you keep looking. I don’t think Leah would have gone to so much trouble to lead you to that ending.”

“Anyone who remembers the story will be dead soon. In another generation, Leah and Jesse Spurlock won’t exist in anybody’s memories. Why dig up the dead?”

“You have to answer that, not me.”

In the end, if he was going to be truthful, there was only one answer he could give. “I guess I’d just like to know.”

“As I was leaving, Prudence told me that Leah and Birdie had a cousin who’s still living. Etta Norton. She lives in Luray, in an assisted-living facility. She’s almost ninety, but Prudence says she’s in good enough health to see you.”

“Me?”

She lay back. “It was okay for me to go to Prudence and Aubrey. But Etta Norton is family. How would she feel if I showed up and told her about you, but you weren’t there?”

“I have a cousin.” He said the words the way a child tastes ice cream for the first time. Tentatively, but with growing appreciation.

“From now on, this has to be your search. I’ll go with you, if you decide to do it. We could go tomorrow, if she agrees to see us. I have the phone number.”

“About tomorrow…” He turned on his side toward her. “Let’s go camping. I brought everything we’ll need. I thought maybe we could go up to the park. Get off the beaten path a little and see what’s up there.” He paused, because until now, he hadn’t even admitted the next part to himself. “Maybe find Lock Hollow.”

Her eyes lit up, then grew cautious. “It’s really off the beaten path. I’m stronger, Isaac, but I can’t carry a pack yet. And you can’t carry everything we’d need, can you?”

“No, but Caleb could.”

“Caleb?”

“He told me about the hike he took yesterday. He spent a lot of time taking photos. He’d love camping even more, and we could persuade him to come if we told him we wanted pictures of my family home site.”

“So we have enough equipment?”

“I brought the single and the double tent, so I’d have a choice if you didn’t want to go with me. We could take both. I brought both our packs, easily enough food for three of us.”

“What about a sleeping bag for Caleb?”

“Somebody in the Claiborne family’s bound to have one he can borrow.”

“I have a dog now.”

“You insist on calling the rug a dog, do you?” He laughed when she narrowed her eyes. “I bet the Claibornes will take her while we’re gone. And Ten will be fine alone.”

She didn’t consider for long. “If you’re willing to work around a limp, and more enthusiasm than strength…”

He lay back, oddly excited. “Luray’s on the way to the park. We could stop and see Etta Norton…I don’t think Caleb would mind a short diversion. We’ll call the Claibornes first thing in the morning.”

She grabbed his hand and kissed it; then she linked her fingers with his. They fell asleep that way.

L
uray was a small town in a small county. Given the choice to participate in the conversation with Etta or walk the streets of the quaint downtown, Caleb chose the latter. Isaac dropped him off at the visitors’ center with instructions to meet them there in an hour.

They found Etta’s address without difficulty. Maple Inn was a two-story white frame building shaded by large red and silver maples. It seemed more an old-fashioned boardinghouse than a serious medical facility. The porch was filled with residents in rockers and wheelchairs, socializing and enjoying the morning sun.

Isaac and Kendra chatted with the two men closest to the door until they could make their way inside. The entry was large and airy. The living area was decorated with a cottagey mixture of antiques and garage-sale bargains. Someone connected with the house had a green thumb, because even though the current drought was playing havoc with gardens, vases filled with flowers brightened tables and ledges.

An employee in a lemon-yellow smock pointed them to a room at the end of a first-floor corridor. Isaac knocked, and they entered when a quavery voice told them to come in.

Etta Norton was sitting in an easy chair looking through one of two windows. Her thin hair was tinted a soft peachy blond and carefully waved. She was tiny and gnarled, and Isaac had an immediate impression of a woman who had fought hard for everything she’d achieved.

She put her hand over her heart when she saw him. “I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Jesse Spurlock’s come back from the dead.”

Isaac hadn’t expected the immediate rush of pleasure her words gave him. He introduced himself, then Kendra. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”

“Oh, not that short. After Aubrey called, I figured you’d make your way here eventually. Glad I lived long enough.”

“Aubrey gets around,” Kendra said.

Etta had a one-sided smile that indicated she might have suffered a stroke. “Pull up a couple of chairs. Every time my daughters leave, they shove them against the wall.”

“Do your children live around here?” Kendra asked.

“Not too far, any of them. I married a man who got a job with the park service, and eventually we settled here.” She held out her hand to Isaac. “Let me look at you up close.”

He obliged her, taking her hand. She leaned forward and squinted, examining him. “A bit of Leah, maybe, in the hair color. But mostly Jesse. Of course, his hair was black as coal. If that don’t beat all.”

“Why?”

“Because there were questions, you know, about that marriage. But maybe you don’t want to hear about that.”

Kendra had pulled two chairs closer, and they settled into them. “We’ve heard a little here, a little there. We were hoping you’d be able to add to it.”

Etta looked pleased. Isaac thought being needed was probably the best medicine the old woman would receive that day.

“So what do you know exactly?” she asked.

Isaac told the story the best he could. “There’s been a hint that another man was involved.”

“Daniel Flaherty. We all got to know him, you know. Him and his assistant…” She paused, staring off into space. “Charlie Thompkins was his name.” She smiled, proud of her recall. “My little brother followed him all over the farm, that’s how I remember. My father cut a hickory switch and taught Will to remember who his real friends were. I remember that, too.”

As if she realized she was off track, she got back to her story. “Well, the two of them spent time with every family in our hollow, making notes, taking information, measuring acres. Daniel was conscientious, I will say that about him. He swore he was doing the best he could to help us. Of course, in the end, he destroyed a marriage while he was doing it.”

“So Daniel Flaherty came between Leah and Jesse?”

“That’s no way to refer to your grandparents, son. But then, I guess they don’t feel much like grandparents, do they? You never having met them.” She squinted at him again. “They’d have thought you were a marvel. I can tell you that.”

“They aren’t real to me,” he admitted. He felt an absurd stab of pleasure, even so.

“Well, I’ll tell you this. Jesse Spurlock was the best-looking man I’ve seen before or since. And smart? Lordy, he was smarter than any teacher that ever come to our little school. But he wasn’t perfect. He had dark spells. We’d call that depression nowadays. Then, of course, we just thought it was sulking. That made him hard to live with. I can understand that now, even if I didn’t then. At the time, I couldn’t understand how Leah could look at anybody else, but I wasn’t living with Jesse and going through what all she did. When you’re young, it’s easy to condemn folks. Not as easy when you’ve made mistakes yourself.”

It was a long speech, and it left her winded. Kendra got up to pour some water from a pitcher and bring it to her. Etta took it gratefully.

She spoke after she’d sipped and rested a little. “If you get me that album over there, I got something to show you.” She pointed across the room.

Kendra got up before Isaac could, and got a photo album from the table beside the bed. She brought it back and rested it on Etta’s lap. Etta thumbed through until she came to the page she’d been looking for.

“You want to know your grandparents better, you should know what they looked like. And see if I’m wrong about you looking like Jesse.” She handed the album to Isaac. “Third photo on the right. That’s them on their wedding day. One of the neighbors had an old Kodak box camera. We thought that was really something. He took that photo. That’s me to one side, but that’s your grandma and grandpa in the middle.”

Isaac stared at the small black and white photo and saw himself, a little younger, hair that was a lot darker. But the resemblance was striking. Leah was as lovely as Kendra’s contacts had said. He soaked in the sight of these people who were, for better or worse, his family. After a minute, he passed the album to Kendra.

She held it up to the light. “You do look like Jesse. Etta’s right, it’s uncanny. And I’m so glad to finally see Leah. But she was just a kid, wasn’t she? I mean, we knew that, but it’s sobering to see the proof.” She looked up. “Do you have photos of Birdie?”

“Oh, Birdie wouldn’t pose, not for anybody.”

“When they disappeared, did you think she and Jesse had run off together?” Kendra asked.

Etta didn’t look surprised at the question. “Birdie could always get Jesse to smile. She was the one who could coax him into a better mood. She used to tell me about it when we would visit. We were good friends. I knew more about her than anybody, even Leah.”

“Do you feel like telling us a little?” Isaac asked.

She smiled and set down her glass. “Does it look like I have anything else to do?”

Leah was weary to the bone. Although she was convinced that they would be leaving their home, she saw no choice but to continue taking care of the farm and the animals that depended on them. Daniel had told her that they would be allowed to take their animals when they left. They could also take furnishings and personal belongings, although they could not remove anything that was part of the farm or house, not even the new fencing Jesse had installed last spring. She supposed the government wanted to have more to destroy once they were gone.

Although she had tried to convince Jesse to continue working until final plans were made, he refused. In a matter of weeks he had replaced defiance with lethargy. He rose late, ate only if food was put directly in front of him, spent his time whittling or walking in the woods. The only work done was done by her. After her parents died, the neighbors had pitched in to be sure the heaviest chores were completed by men strong enough to do them. Now that Leah had a healthy young husband, no one came around to help. She was struggling to do her chores and Jesse’s, too. And the effort was wearing her down.

The only person who seemed able to reach Jesse was Birdie. Jesse always managed a smile for her sister and a response when she spoke to him. But Leah, who had tried and failed to push him to accept the inevitable, received little more than a cold glance.

Leah’s only solace came during her increasingly frequent meetings with Daniel. They met at night, when skies were dark and they wouldn’t be seen. She coupled their meetings with trips to the barn to feed the animals or other outside chores. He wasn’t always there waiting for her, but often enough that they were able to talk about their days.

Leah didn’t want to examine their friendship too closely. She knew she had grown dependent on Daniel for the small kindnesses her husband avoided, the way he listened intently when she spoke, the warmth in his hazel eyes, the concern for her feelings. She could talk to Daniel as she could no longer talk to Jesse.

On this night Daniel wasn’t waiting near the stand of hickory where they usually met. She leaned against a trunk and waited, the intoxicating scent of apple blossoms wafting on a light breeze from their orchards. Overhead, the full moon was like an extraordinary pearl.

She was later than usual, because she had needed to chop wood for the cookstove. She supposed Daniel had given up hope she would come. Their agreement was silent. There were no expectations, no whispered plans. She knew these meetings were more than an extension of his job and that he enjoyed being with her as much as she enjoyed him. When she thought about it—and she tried not to—she realized Daniel was attracted to her as a woman.

She was afraid she was attracted to him, as well. He was older than Jesse, with a thoughtful maturity her husband lacked. Jesse’s intelligence and wit illuminated their little world like streaks of lightning. Daniel was steadier, less apt to make her laugh, but also less apt to criticize or infuriate her. She was aware of the irony. Daniel worked for the men who were stealing her farm and had driven Jesse into gloom.

When it was clear he wasn’t coming, she made her way back to the barn and the chopping block, where earlier she had split seasoned logs into smaller chunks. Behind the barn, she located the wooden handcart and pulled it around the side to load the wood and haul it up to the house. A shape materialized out of the shadows. For a moment she thought Daniel had sought her here, in the heart of the farm, where anyone might see him.

But it wasn’t Daniel.

“Looks like you could use some help,” Jesse said.

She took a deep breath to steady her hands, another to slow her speeding heart. “I could always use help,” she said at last. “Though I reckon I’ve forgotten what it feels like.”

“I aim to fix that.”

“You’re like a man who misses his wedding and just comes for the party. I’ve already done the hard part.”

“Party? You know how hard it is to stack this wood all proper in the cart?”

“Well, I’ve been learning real fast, since I’m the only one that does it anymore.”

“I can see you haven’t learned good enough. Let me show you.”

“Jesse—”

He shook his head. “Hush now. The master’s a-teaching.”

She wanted to be angry. She had every right to be. But this was a quicksilver glimpse of the old Jesse, the man she had married, the one she had admired from afar for years before the day they hunted bloodroot together.

“First you choose the biggest pieces. ’Course, you hope that whoever did the splitting knew what she was doing and got them all even like.”

“It’s not my job!”

“But sometimes there’s a complication. And beggars can’t be choosers. So we’ll go with what we got here.”

“How very kind of you.”

“Now, don’t these look like the biggest?” Before she could answer, he began to juggle three large chunks. “Which is biggest? This one? This? This?”

She was mesmerized, although she wouldn’t say so. “Maybe I ought to just go inside.”

“And miss the show? That don’t hardly seem right. How much entertainment do you get in a day? Watch this.” Quick as a weasel, he grabbed a fourth piece and sent it into the air with the others.

“Now watch
this
,” he said, his eyes trained on the wood. “You might learn a thing or two.”

“I’m learning what a sorry fool I married.”

He laughed. It wasn’t quite the deep-chested, rolling laugh she remembered from better days, but it sounded real enough.

“Here goes.” He turned, and as each piece came down, he flicked it into the cart. In a moment, the four chunks of wood lined the bottom.

Despite herself, Leah was impressed, but she was determined not to show him. “I hear they got circuses where men like you entertain the crowds. ’Course, I don’t see a crowd right here—do you?”

“Let’s see you do the same thing.”

“No thanks. I’ll just finish doing
your
job, that’s all. Like I been doing for weeks now.”

“No call for that. Give me a chance and I’ll teach you how to have some fun.”

When she didn’t move, he raised a brow. “Come here, Leah.”

“Why should I do
anything
you ask me to?”

“’Cause you’re the wife of a sorry fool, but that still makes you a wife, don’t it?”

“Jesse, you think this makes up for—”

“Come here.” His arm snaked out, and he caught her around the waist. He inched her toward him, applying his strength, but he didn’t hurt her.