On Blue Falls Pond (31 page)
She leaned back and looked up at him. “And I owe you one about your judgment about Jill—so let’s call that one even.”
He sighed. “Ovella.”
“Yeah. Ovella,” she said sadly. She kissed his chin. “I’ll see you later.” She didn’t want to talk about it now. Everything had come so quickly, she needed some time to sort out her thoughts.
As she rode next to the deputy in silence, she looked at the past with a new perspective. Ovella had always seemed so rigid . . . brittle. Glory had assumed it was because she thought herself above everyone else. But maybe it was the outward sign of holding herself together by a slender thread.
Had Andrew’s controlling nature been a symptom of a similar dysfunction? She would never know. But it hurt her to think that maybe, just maybe, he could have been helped before all of this began.
Eric drove to Jill’s. When he went in, he found Scott spinning his pirate boat and Jill lying on the couch in her bathrobe. She looked wiped out.
“Feeling any better?” he asked.
“The worst has passed. I even ate a cracker.”
“I’ll take Scott with me so you can rest.”
“I want to keep him here—close—but thanks for offering.”
Eric smiled and nodded. He knew how she felt. After coming close to losing him, he wanted to keep his son close, too.
“Do you know any more about the fire?” she asked.
He sighed. “It’s ongoing; you know I can’t discuss—”
“For Christ’s sake, Eric, Scott almost died! Stop with the protocol.”
“It’s still my job, Jill.” He started toward the door, then turned. “Something like this certainly puts a different perspective on things, doesn’t it?”
“Like there are worse things than your child having autism?” she said quietly.
“Like that.”
When Eric pulled up in front of his duplex, the front door was open to the screen and the windows were open. He decided he liked the feeling of coming home to a house with Glory inside.
He opened the door quietly and was glad he had; Glory lay curled on her side, sleeping on the couch. The pile of used tissues on the floor next to her said she’d cried herself to sleep.
He tried to tiptoe to the kitchen, but she stirred.
“Scott okay?”
“Good as ever.” Eric went to sit on the floor next to the couch. “Got a couple of scrapes from the shingles, that’s all.” He took Glory’s hands in his, even though his fingernails and the creases in his skin were still outlined in soot. “And I have you to thank for that.”
“You have me to thank for his being in danger in the first place.” She inched to the edge of the couch. “Eric, if I had had any idea that something like this would happen, I wouldn’t have stayed there; I would have found a place by myself.” Her bloodshot eyes pooled with tears. “I am so sorry I put your child at risk.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“You know, when I was in that burning house, the only thing that mattered was getting him out, keeping him safe.”
“And you did.” He kissed her forehead. “You were the hero this time.”
She laughed softly. “At least you didn’t have to rescue me, for a change.”
“Hey, I like rescuing you.”
She smiled and looked at his stained hands. “Here I am talking, and you probably want food and a shower.”
He was still in the clothes he’d worn under his fire gear. He had managed to clean his face with the disposable wipes he had in the Explorer, but he was dirty and smelled of house fire. “I’ll get one in a bit. How’s Tula?”
Glory sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. “Stubborn as ever. Even though Deputy Hawkins and I both ragged her all the way into town, she still refused to go to the ER and get checked.” She pushed her silky hair away from her face. “Paramedics said she’s okay, and I really do think she is. She’s up in your bed.”
“We’ll keep an eye on her.”
Needing to be close, he pulled Glory down into his lap. They sat quietly for a few moments, Eric thankful to the core of his being for the good fortune that saved those he loved. And he did love Glory.
As if she read his mind, she said, “You know, things become brilliantly clear when you think you’ve reached the end of the road. When I thought I might never see you again . . . I swore if I made it out alive, I wouldn’t be afraid of anything. Life
is
chances, and it’s a sin not to take them.”
His heart took flight, but she spoke before he could say anything. “Eric, when I couldn’t find Scott in that fire . . . I can’t tell you what that did to me.” A tear slid down her cheek.
“Shhhh.” He hugged her close. “I know exactly what it did to you, because that’s the way I felt when we got the alarm. Scott, you, Tula; I’d have died if anything had happened.”
She nuzzled the side of his neck and placed a soft kiss on his throat.
He didn’t want to ruin this moment; would have been happy to sit there for the rest of the day. But there was more that needed to be said.
“Ovella probably won’t stand trial,” he said.
“What good would it do if she did? She’s sick. She’s where she can get help. There’s no way Walt will be able to keep this quiet. Everyone will know.”
“You don’t sound angry.”
“Oh, I’m angry. I’m angry that she made some people think I could have done some awful things. I’m angry that she burned Gran’s house. I’m angry that Scott and Gran could have been hurt. But I understand what losing a child can do to you”—she nodded slowly. “Oh, yes,
that
I understand.”
“Don’t you think Walt should have seen it coming?”
Glory sighed, then coughed. That cough was enough to make his anger rise again.
Then she said, “Ovella was very, very good at making people see only what she wanted them to see. Her husband included. Plus, Walt was dealing with his own grief.” She paused. “I can’t blame Walt—you don’t know how wonderful he was when I was in the hospital—in spite of his own loss.”
Eric looked at her for a long moment. “You’re an amazing woman. How do you find the strength?”
She looked into his eyes. “From you. I get my strength from loving you.”
Eric lay back on the floor, taking her with him. He rolled her onto her back and looked into green eyes that reminded him of a cool evening in the forest. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” He kissed her, softly, gently. “I love you, Glory.”
She pulled him closer, drawing him into a kiss that could quickly lead to other things. He slid his hand under her shirt and let himself go; wrapped himself in her love—a love he’d waited a lifetime for.
“Well, for Heaven’s sake!”
At the sound of Tula’s voice, Eric jerked himself to a sitting position as quickly as any teenager caught going for second base.
Tula continued down the steps, wearing an old robe Eric didn’t even remember he had. “I took the bed upstairs just so there wouldn’t be this sort of hanky-panky!” She fluttered a hand over her heart. “It ain’t good for an old woman to see such things.”
Glory tugged the hem of the shirt down and giggled.
Tula’s bony bare feet padded across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen. Her eyes remained dramatically averted. “I’ll just go make myself some tea to calm my nerves. When you two get y’rselves calmed down, you can come join me.”
Glory’s giggling got worse when Tula left the room.
Eric whispered, “Hey, we’re in trouble here. I think you must be delirious from lack of sleep.”
She reached up and pulled him back down on top of her. “I’m deliriously in love.” She touched his cheek. “And don’t worry about Granny, we have an agreement. I won’t treat her like an old lady, and she won’t scold me for doing this.”
She kissed him until he could swear the floor vibrated beneath them.
Glory sat on a boulder in the sun with her feet dangling in Blue Falls Pond. Eric was sprawled on his back beside her, dozing off the picnic lunch they’d just eaten. Lady bounced from here to there chasing a dragonfly. Glory looked around the most beloved spot on earth and thought this was a perfect Labor Day. She was glad she and Eric had decided on a quiet afternoon instead of the raucous activities the Baker clan had planned.
Scott and Jill were spending the day with a man Jill had met in Knoxville. He worked for an organization that served children with autism and acted as a liaison between all of the parties involved in the child’s treatment, parents, doctors, therapists. Luckily, the guy seemed to genuinely care for Scott, too.
As for Scott, the speech therapist was doing wonders helping him develop his communication skills. Already, he had begun to say a few words.
Glory pulled her sewing out of her backpack and threaded a needle.
“Do you really think you’re going to have that thing finished before he’s a teenager?” Eric asked, opening one eye.
Glory dipped her foot deeper in the pond and flipped water at him. “I’m getting faster.” She spread the section of quilt she was working on across her thighs. “Gran says I’ll have it finished by Thanksgiving.”
“My bet is the house will be rebuilt and kennel finished long before Scott sleeps with that quilt.”
It was a teasing argument that never died between them. Glory wondered what they’d spar about once the quilt was done.
“So you admit, he
will
sleep with it!” she said triumphantly. “That’s all that counts.”
“That’s what I love about you, your grace in victory.”
“You’ll miss me next month when Lady and I are off getting trained.”
He sat up. “I miss you already.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Probably not as much as Scott will miss Lady.”
“Yeah, well, once she gets back, she’ll be his forever.”
“And I can start on those mischievous puppies of hers. Do you think there’s a prayer I’ll get one good service dog out of that litter?”
Eric laughed. “Tula says she’s keeping Roscoe no matter what.”
“Yeah, well, he’s the last one I’d expect to qualify as an assistance animal, so Gran’s not going to get a fight from me.”
After a moment, Eric grew more serious. “I really admire what you’re doing.”
She put down her sewing. “Thanks. I love it so far—and it’s going to be good for Granny, too.”
“Have you and Tula decided on a name?”
“Cold Springs Canine Helpers. Says where we are, what we do. Can’t get much simpler than that.”
Eric shifted, dragging his backpack from where he’d been using it as a pillow. He slid his hand inside, but didn’t pull it back out.
“What are you up to?” Glory asked.
“I was wondering, with your busy life and all, if you’d have room for one more thing?”
“What?” she said, suspiciously.
He drew his hand out of the backpack. “Me.” He held out a beautiful diamond set in platinum. “On a permanent basis.”
She tilted her head and smiled, her heart afire. “Oh, I think I can squeeze you in—if you’re willing to relocate.”
He leaned close and whispered against her lips, “I’ve always wanted to live in the hollow.” Then he kissed her.
“It’s going to be a houseful; you, me, Gran, Scott, various pooches.”
“I won’t take up much space. We can even bunk together if it’ll help.”
“Oh,” she said, as he slipped the ring on her finger, “it’ll definitely help.”
SUSAN’S FIRST BOOK,
Back Roads
, won a RITA for Best First Book and two National Reader’s Choice Awards in 2004. She lives in her native Indiana hometown with her husband, two college-age children, a menagerie of critters, and a rock band in the basement.
Visit her Web site at:
www.susancrandall.net
, or contact her at P.O. Box 1092, Noblesville, IN 46061, or [email protected].
Enjoy a taste of Susan Crandall’s exciting new novel!
The car engine idled and the windows began to fog in the cold Kentucky night. Caroline Rogers switched off the ignition and allowed the stillness to envelop her. The air was crisp and the snow fresh, lending an expectant hush to the surrounding pastures and fields. The only sound was her sister Macie’s unsteady breathing from the passenger seat. Caroline could sympathize; she suddenly felt a little unsteady herself.
It was one a.m. and Caroline had done her reconnaissance. Ms. Stockton was in the habit of going to bed before midnight, with all of the downstairs lights still on—including those on the Christmas tree in the living room window.
Christmas. She couldn’t believe it was almost Christmas. Although she’d tried to deny its approach by averting her eyes from the decorations on the town square and ignoring the endless gift ads on the television, Christmas was still coming—an unwelcome and unwanted reminder of how things used to be. Even her younger brother and sister hadn’t begun their annual campaign of not-so-subtle hints.
Since the winter she’d turned seven, the winter she’d come to live with the Rogers’s, the holiday had held a sense of rebirth, of life, and love, and second chances.
This year it just held grief.
I’m too young to feel this old.
Caroline stared at the blue-white snow, feeling just a little sorry for herself. She rarely allowed self-pity to get a toehold, but tonight there was no fending it off. According to her life plan—her carefully constructed life plan—at twenty, she should be halfway to her degree in fine arts. If all had gone well, she’d be interning for National Geographic over the holidays instead of sneaking around, freezing her ass off, taking a photograph she had no business taking.
But she’d buried that life plan along with her parents.
Moonlight glistened on the rolling ground between her car and the solid red-brick two-story farmhouse on the hill, casting the swales in gray-purple shadow. The scene was dear to her heart, even though it no longer belonged to her.
“I don’t think we should do this,” twelve-year-old Macie said, looking out the window with wide, apprehensive eyes.
“Really, Mace! Stop being such a goody-two shoes.” Caroline’s frustration over her own self-pity, added to the fact that Macie was right, made Caroline uncharacteristically short-tempered.
Macie’s chin dropped to her chest. “Sorry.”
Shame heated Caroline’s face. Macie was a good kid, which had made Caroline’s own life immeasurably easier for the past ten months. She knew this to be a concrete fact because their thirteen-year-old brother, Sam, was the polar opposite, constantly tempting the devil himself.
She put a hand on Macie’s leg. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
Macie lifted her chin and gave Caroline a gentle smile. That was Macie, gentle and giving and always willing to take the blame. She was bound to be trampled on. Caroline wished she could help Macie find a way to curb her trepidation without losing her innate goodness.
A part of Caroline understood Macie’s need to please; being abandoned by two sets of parents before your twelfth birthday had a way of making a conscientious girl look inside herself for reasons for so much misfortune: If only I’d been less trouble, or made better grades, or hadn’t made Mom worry so. Still, the girl needed to develop some self confidence.
Caroline’s conscience chided, Self confidence, not the brass balls to break the law. And they were breaking the law. Shiny new, reflective no trespassing signs were posted along all boundaries of the five-hundred-acre property that until recently had been the Rogers Farm.
“But we don’t have permission.” Macie apparently wasn’t ready to take the big plunge into lawlessness—even to please her big sister.
“It’s just a picture, for goodness sake.”
“What are you going to do with it, anyway? We have tons of pictures of the house.”
“Not since we had to sell it. It’s different now. Just get out and we’ll be back home before you know it.”
“We should ask.”
“Honestly, Mace!” Caroline threw her car door open, grabbed her camera, and got out. However, she was careful to close the door softly. Her last encounter with the woman who had bought their house and surrounding farmland hadn’t gone at all well. Caroline didn’t want Macie to know they’d been virtually forbidden to return to their old home.
True to Ms. Stockton’s habit, the lights on the first floor were blazing. For a woman who said she’d bought this land for seclusion, she seemed mighty afraid of the dark.
Macie got out of the car, walked to Caroline’s side, and whispered, “She’ll see our footprints in the snow.”
A wicked little part of Caroline thought, serves her right. Maybe she’ll think she’s got a reason to be scared of the dark. But she said, “It’s supposed to snow again before dawn.”
“What if it doesn’t?” Panic strangled Macie’s whisper.
“It’s not like they’re going to track us down by our footprints for taking a picture.” Caroline just wanted to take the photo and head home to her darkroom. The image had been formed so solidly in her mind that she feared the actual photograph wouldn’t capture all of the emotion she’d envisioned.
Macie looked up the long lane, toward the house. After a moment, she said, “Maybe we should make a snowman in the front yard, just so she knows it wasn’t a serial killer or something.”
Caroline shifted her camera and wrapped an arm around her sister. “You really are a good person. Snowman might take too long. But if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll tramp out a smiley face in the front yard.”
Macie smiled, then fell in step with Caroline as they headed up the lane. They moved in the shadow of the solid line of Norway spruce their father had planted along the west side as a wind break.
When they reached the house, they skirted to the side yard. The six-pane double-sash window that faced them spilled warm golden light onto the snow. From just the right angle, Caroline could see the Christmas tree that was centered in the window facing the front porch. She positioned herself so the camera lens framed the image she’d formed in her mind weeks ago. Then she motioned Macie toward the window.
The girl moved with all of the assurance of a rabbit approaching an open field.
“Hurry up,” Caroline whispered.
Macie shot her a pinched look, but moved marginally faster. She stopped within an arm’s reach of the side of the house, just as she’d been told.
“Put your hand on the glass.”
Macie’s gaze cut to Caroline. “Fingerprints.”
Caroline made a hissing sound and a mental note to limit the number of hours Macie watched CSI on television. “You’re wearing gloves.”
Slowly, Macie reached for the glass.
The second her palm settled against the lighted pane, Caroline’s breath caught in her chest. Perfect. “Raise your chin a little,” she coached.
She focused the camera.
“Hold your breath.”
“Why?” Macie started to move.
“Hold still!” Caroline lined up the shot. “I can see your breath. Now hold it.”
As the shutter gave its reassuring click, Caroline’s heart skipped a beat and her entire body hummed with electric energy. She knew this was going to be a remarkable photograph.
What she didn’t know was that it was destined to change her life forever.
