Next of Kin (12 page)

A few minutes later he paused.

“You doing okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal. Besides, I’m nearly finished.”

He worked his way through the last couple of sections until her hair was smooth and shiny. In the process, most of it had dried, as well.

“There you go, soft as a baby’s cheek and shiny as a new penny.”

Beth grinned. That was an expression she’d only heard in the South, and she loved it.

“Thank you so much.”

Ryal wanted to lay her down on that bed and make love until daylight, but that wasn’t going to happen, so he just smiled back.

“You’re welcome, and when you need help with anything, all you have to do is ask.”

The awkward silence that came afterward didn’t last long. Ryal left, quietly closing the door behind him before Beth could call him back.

“Just as well,” she muttered, then dug the letters out from under the pillow, found the next one and carefully opened it, wondering if there would be another violet pressed between the pages.

And there was. “Oh, Ryal.” She bit her lip, then began to read.

Beth,

It’s been four days since I sent the first letter, so I know it’s too soon for you to send one back. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. I don’t know how you’re doing, but I’m not doing so well. I can’t sleep, because every time I close my eyes I see your face. Sometimes you’re laughing. Sometimes you’re crying. I don’t know if it’s just my imagination making this mess worse, or if that’s really what’s happening. I can’t eat. The food tastes like dust in my mouth, and what I manage to get down keeps wanting to come back up. This is making me crazy. Write back. Soon.

Love you,

Ryal

Beth’s lips quivered as she replaced everything, including the pressed flower, back in the envelope, and pulled out the next letter and the third violet.

Bethie,

It’s been eleven days since I first wrote. I don’t know what to think. Every horrible thing you can imagine has gone through my mind. I keep replaying our last day together over and over, trying to remember if there was a clue I missed—if there was something you were trying to tell me that I misunderstood. If there was, I’m sorry. More than you can know. Was something wrong? Please, honey…write to me.

All my love,

Ryal

Beth’s anger was growing. She wondered what her parents had been thinking as these had arrived, and how they’d justified it to themselves when they’d had them sent back unopened. She picked up the fourth one and opened it. The mountain violet fell out into her lap, and the words on the page broke her heart.

Beth,

Are you pregnant? It’s the only thing I can think of that might make your parents react in such a crazy way. But if you are, why take you away? They know I love you. They know I would marry you in a heartbeat, and that I was only waiting for you to get out of school to even broach the subject. I was going to give you an engagement ring for Christmas. You would be eighteen by then to my twenty-five. I’m not that much older. Tell me that’s not what’s wrong.

Love,

Ryal

Beth was sick to her stomach. She’d thought he’d let her go without a thought, and he’d thought she’d dumped him. What a mess. What an awful, awful mess not of their making. The fifth letter was a repeat of the fourth, but the tone of the sixth letter had changed. His hurt was turning to anger, just as hers had done, and the omission of the mountain violet was just as telling as his words.

Beth,

I’m not real sure why I keep writing these letters, but you know how I am. I don’t like unfinished business, and there’s a hell of a lot of that between us. So what do you want me to do? Forget I ever knew you? Not as easily done for me as it seems to be for you. Oh. There’s something you should know. I just found out about it last night. Not sure what it has to do with us, but at least now I know why your parents left. If you don’t already know, I’m not going to be the one to tell you. You’re going to have to ask your mother about that. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to wish you well, but I’m not there yet, so the only thing I have left to say is goodbye.

Ryal

Beth slid the letter back into the envelope, retied the pile with the ribbon he’d used and put them in her bag. After reading these, she was heartbroken that he’d never received any of the letters she’d sent to him. There was no thought of going to talk to him now. Whatever they said next would be said in the bright light of day with plenty of space between them. Not now, while emotions were high.

She turned out the light and then crawled into bed.

Moonlight came through the part in the curtain and onto the quilt across her feet. Earlier she’d raised the window beside her bed to let in some fresh air and had forgotten to close it. But now she could hear the night sounds on the mountain and realized she could identify everything she was hearing. From the occasional hoot of an owl to what sounded like the howl of a panther, they were far removed from the sounds of city life she’d become accustomed to, and worlds away from being awakened by the sound of gunfire, which had become Ike Pappas’s calling card. She thought about shutting the window, then took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Ryal sat down on the side of the bed. The house was quiet. He thought about the talk he’d had with Quinn, who was standing guard in a camp about a mile down the road from the house. If anyone came up the mountain, he would know it and warn them.

Ryal thought about the ceiling fan over his bed back home and wished for a little moving air to cool the situation. The rifle he’d brought from home was loaded and in the corner beside his bed. He didn’t think anyone would find them here, but this was Beth’s life they were talking about, and it paid to be overcautious.

Something was making a scratching sound in the closet. Probably a mouse. When his grandpa Foster had been alive, he’d had a dog and a couple of cats. Afterward, one of Ryal’s uncles had taken them home with him, and now the place was suffering the consequences. He would dig around the kitchen tomorrow and see if he could find some traps to set out.

When it dawned on him that he had yet to shave, he jumped up and headed for the bathroom. Anything was preferable to sitting and thinking about being under the same roof with Beth again. He moved quietly, aware she would be nervous in a strange place and he didn’t want to disturb her rest.

He didn’t even turn on the light until he’d closed the bathroom door, and then he went about the business of shaving. By the time he’d finished, he could hear the pine boughs brushing against the roof. The wind must be up.

He hung the towel on the rack, and then walked, shirtless, out into the hall and paused. There was a draft, which was odd. The only explanation was an open window, but he hadn’t opened any, because the screens were all gone. It had to be in Beth’s room.

He moved to her door and started to knock, then changed his mind and opened it just enough to peek in. She was curled up on her side, eyes closed and breathing steady. He looked past her to the window beside her bed. Curtains were flapping in the brisk wind coming through the open window. Taking care not to wake her, he tiptoed over and pushed the window down, then hurried out before she woke.

He thought about going to bed, too, but it was far too early for him to be sleepy. If he’d been home, he would most likely still have been in the wood shop working on a piece of furniture, but there was nothing to do here. He wandered into the kitchen, got a couple of cookies and a can of Coke, and went out on the back porch.

He had such fond memories of being in this place. It felt odd, almost wrong, to be using it as a hideout.
Hiding
wasn’t in his vocabulary, at least not since he’d outgrown playing hide-and-seek with his brothers. He didn’t walk away from confrontation, but then, he’d never had the head of an organized-crime family trying to kill him, either.

After he’d learned what had happened to Beth, he’d been mad at Sam and Annie all over again. If they had just stayed here and made Annie face what she’d done instead of running away, Beth would never have been put in this situation. He broke a cookie in half and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he watched clouds moving swiftly across the night sky. It wouldn’t rain tonight, but he would lay bets it would be raining by this time tomorrow.

As he sat, he heard rustling in the brush. Within a few minutes a possum came waddling out of the shadows with its nose to the ground. Ryal was downwind, so it kept moving, unaware it was no longer alone.

When Ryal broke off a piece of cookie and tossed it out into the grass, the possum heard the sound and scooted backward. But it didn’t take long for the scent of the cookie to change the little critter’s mind. It waddled forward, found the bit of sweet and began to nibble, while Ryal sat motionless, watching.

Because no one lived here anymore, the animals had lost their fear of human habitation. Grandpa Foster hadn’t been dead much more than a year, but already they were beginning to reclaim the woods as their own.

When the possum finished eating the cookie, he snuffled the ground a little more, then waddled away. Ryal ate the other cookie, washed it down with the Coke and went back into the house. He was just passing Beth’s bedroom when the door suddenly opened.

“Ryal, is everything okay?”

He jumped, then hastened to reassure her. “Yes, everything’s fine. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No. I woke up on my own, but the window was shut. I remembered it had been open when I lay down and—”

“I’m sorry that frightened you. I closed it earlier. There aren’t any screens on the windows, and we’re a long way up the mountain. I didn’t want a critter crawling into bed with you.”

She shivered. “I knew the screen was missing, but it was stuffy earlier. I didn’t mean to fall asleep with it open. Thank you for taking care of me.”

The tremor in her voice was evident.

“That’s why we’re here, remember? We’re all taking care of you, honey.”

Beth shivered. “I’m afraid my life will never be okay again.”

He thought a moment about what he was going to say, then decided it fit the situation.

“That’s how Quinn feels, too.”

“Quinn? Why?”

“He’s done two tours in Iraq. He’s only been home about eighteen months.”

Beth was horrified. “Oh, no! Is all this stuff about me affecting him? Does he suffer from PTSD? I’m so sorry. He shouldn’t involve himself in this. Why did you let him?”

Ryal wanted to hold her, but he knew if he touched her it wouldn’t be enough, so he shoved his hands in his pockets instead.

“Quinn does what Quinn wants. The only reason I even mentioned it was because he never thought he’d make it back alive, even though he kept going back, but he did. He’s getting better, and you will, too.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry I freaked out on you earlier.”

“You have the right,” Ryal said. “Sleep well, Bethie.”