One True Heart (22 page)

“I'll keep searching,” Kare whispered before Martha Q made it back. “How about you come to me for the next meeting? When I close my door Mr. Hatcher can't hear us talking.”

“Fair enough,” Millanie answered as Martha Q bumped through the door and hurried onto the porch.

“What did I miss?” she giggled. “I love visiting.”

Millanie managed to look like she was embarrassed. “I'm afraid you caught us. I've just talked Kare into giving me a reading tomorrow. We're going to see if I lived any past lives. I've always had a desire to know.”

“You'll not catch me trying that. What if I found out I was a man in my last life? One of the men in my writing group at the library said he dreamed once he was a general. All I ever dream is that I have to get up and go to the bathroom. Then I wake up and sure enough my dream comes true.”

Kare laughed, but Millanie just smiled. She never thoroughly knew if Martha Q was telling the truth or playing to the crowd. The lady had lived and loved during her lifetime. Somewhere she'd learned that being funny was far more interesting than being wise. She'd told Millanie yesterday that there was an empty plot next to every one of her dead husbands, and when she died only one would be happy and the others would just have to sleep alone.

Kare stayed for lunch and then said she wanted to go over to county records. She promised to check in with Millanie when she got home that night and let her know if there was anything strange happening.

Millanie considered that
strange
in Kare's world was probably a larger category than in others' lives, so she added, “If you see anyone hanging around or even get a feeling that everything is not just right, send me a text where you are and I'll be on my way.”

As Kare said good-bye she thanked Millanie for the meals and for caring but assured her she'd be fine. “I'm just overreacting. That's all,” she admitted, then was gone.

After lunch Martha Q drove Millanie to her therapy. During the hour she worked out, Martha Q stayed in the lobby talking to everyone who walked in. As they left, Millanie thanked her for acting as driver but said she'd have her own car in a few hours.

Martha Q said, “Thank goodness. I don't know if I've got enough life left to listen to all those aches and pains again. The folks in the mental therapy waiting rooms are a lot better off. They may think they're crazy, but at least they're not dying.”

Millanie didn't ask why Martha Q happened to be hanging out in a mental therapy waiting room. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

After talking to the old lady and working a leg she hadn't used in over a month, Millanie decided to sleep the rest of the afternoon away.

She barely woke in time to dress for dinner. Martha Q interrupted her twice. Once to tell her a car and a bag had been dropped off for her and the second time to inform her it was almost six, as if Millanie didn't have clocks in her room.

Exactly at six o'clock, Drew picked her up for dinner and they drove to the Matheson ranch. He was nice and polite, but he seemed to have something on his mind. The kiss hello was on her cheek, and all the way out to the ranch he talked about the history of the area and mentioned nothing personal. Her gut told her Drew Cunningham didn't belong on her list, but she had to fill in the facts about him before she'd scratch off his name.

They spent the evening visiting with a dozen of her cousins and looking over old photos of the house she'd inherited.

One of her cousins admitted he'd leased out a slice of her land for grazing years ago when her father was alive. They'd agreed that he'd make his payment to a bank account in Harmony, then pay any bills on the place. The cousin had stopped needing the lease, but there was still money left in
the account for her. He said it wasn't much, but it would pay to fix up the house.

Drew seemed far more involved in the old pictures and stories than she was. If a stranger had walked in he would have thought that Drew, not Millanie, was the long-lost relative. Drew was good at fitting in.

On the return to town she planned to start with why he'd lied about his dead mother. If he wouldn't, or couldn't, explain why he'd lied, maybe she needed to keep her distance. He might not be the bad guy she was looking for, but he wouldn't be someone she'd want to know.

Only one of her older cousins asked if they'd take her home, ruining Millanie's plan. The old widow didn't want to stay as long as her son did and it wouldn't be more than a few blocks out of their way. Her son needed to talk horses with Hank and she said she'd miss her show if she didn't get home.

So Drew drove home talking mostly to the old dear and leaving Millanie frustrated.

He circled the block and headed to the inn when they were finally alone in the car. They seemed no more than two strangers. She knew this wasn't the time or the place for a talk.

Drew walked her to the porch, his hand on her back to steady her. No longer a caress, simply an impersonal touch. She knew he sensed her coldness, but now wasn't the time to face the invisible wall between them.

He might have stayed awhile if she'd asked, but two newly arrived couples were visiting on Martha Q's porch. Drew had no choice but to thank her for the interesting evening. When he leaned in to kiss her cheek, she pulled back. The poor lighting didn't allow her to see his reaction. She didn't want to. She knew he was hurt.

Maybe she'd misread him, but he seemed in a hurry to be gone. He hurried to the van and didn't turn to wave as he pulled away.

She'd been cold all evening, but she had to protect herself. She had a job to do and right now she needed someone around who was honest.

W
HEELER
F
ARM

Johnny stood on his back porch watching the sun set over his land. Heavy clouds were coming in from the northwest, but he didn't care. A good rain would cool temperatures into fall. He loved this time of day when it wasn't quite night, but the day had slowed. All week he'd been alone and he'd enjoyed the silence. Funny how a few nights in jail could make him forget how quiet it was in the country. As soon as the sun set, there wouldn't be anything but stars to keep him company.

Folks might think it strange or lonely out here, but he was at home. The farm had been in the family for four generations. It and all the equipment were paid for. Even if he had a bad year, he'd survive. Even with Scarlet and her boyfriend emptying their accounts, the farm's books were solid. Johnny had spent the day plowing and planning for next year. What he'd grow. When he'd plant. How many men he'd hire. Without a wife to distract him, he planned to work weekends and clear one more section by spring.

“I'm probably the poster child for boring,” he said to the yard dog, who ignored him completely. All day he'd work doing the same things over and over, watching his progress in rows moving across the earth. Sometimes he'd think of all the people he was feeding by growing winter wheat, but mostly he just thought of what had to be done one step, one acre at a time.

Soon it would be winter. He'd work on his books, read up on what was new in equipment and seed, fix everything that broke all spring and summer that he never got around to during growing season. He'd rest too, like the land, so he'd be ready to go again when it came time to plow. Farmers didn't think much about living by the day, or even the week. They lived by the season. Work in the spring and summer happened from sunup to sundown. Scarlet could never understand that.

He hadn't missed her one bit. Wendell called once to say how sorry he was again about telling the sheriff that it looked like Johnny had just come in from burying his wife.

Johnny was thinking about forgiving his brother. After all, he had been the one holding the shovel and he might have said something like he'd just buried Scarlet.

But he reconsidered when he realized he and Wendell had just one thing in common: beer. Wendell hated the farm and had moved to town as soon as he got his first job. Wendell didn't want to get married and have kids. He thought he was living the wild bachelor life and planned to stay that way.

Maybe he'd put off forgiving Wendell a little longer and enjoy the peace for a while.

He was thinking of the money he'd save on beer alone when the house phone rang. Johnny almost didn't answer it. He didn't want to hear Wendell apologize again. There was nothing sadder than a mall guard crying.

On the fourth ring Johnny broke down and reached inside for the wall phone that had been hanging in the same spot all his life.

“Hello,” he answered, already dreading hearing his brother's voice.

“John,” a soft voice whispered.

“Kare.” His heart stopped while he waited for her to say more.

“I'm at the county clerk's office just off Main. I was looking over some records and forgot about the time. When I packed up, I discovered everyone else must have gone home already and forgotten about me in the back.”

“Are you locked in?” He hated the thought of having to call Wendell for help, but he would if Kare was trapped inside a government building. It'd probably be against the law, but he'd break her out.

“No. I can get out and the door will lock behind me.” She sounded like she might cry. “But when I looked out there's a man standing in the parking lot and he's looking straight at my car. I think he's waiting for me.”

“Do you know him?” Maybe some guy was just waiting to see if she was having trouble.

“No,” she whispered, as if someone might hear her. “I think he's been following me.”

Johnny didn't know what to do. He wanted to tell her she was just imagining trouble, but she might still be frightened from finding Beau Yates mugged. Or worse! What if she'd been the one the mugger had been waiting for in the creek bed and Beau just happened to come along?

“I'll be right there. Don't leave the building until you see me pull up.”

He didn't bother to say good-bye. He just dropped the phone and ran for his truck. The night was growing darker by the minute and he didn't want her in danger one second longer. He hit ninety before he turned onto the main road and headed for the lights of Harmony. If he got picked up on radar the patrol car could follow him in.

Five minutes later he pulled into the side parking lot of the county courthouse. Rain was popping on the warm pavement and making the two lot lights shimmer like dying stars. An old Ford with peace signs on the bumper sat in the back of the lot. He had no doubt he'd found Kare. Between her car and the door was a man dressed in black with a hood
over his head. He stood in the rain as if he hadn't noticed he was getting wet. His slick jacket reflected Johnny's lights but he didn't look up. He seemed faceless in the rain.

When Johnny circled and his truck lights flashed across him again, the stranger turned and disappeared around the corner of the building. He was built thick and his movements were uneven, like a man not used to running or someone out of shape. One hand remained tucked away in his jogging shirt pocket as he ran.

Johnny was tempted to chase the guy, but his first worry was Kare.

When he jumped from his truck and headed toward the steps, she flew out the door. She'd been watching for him. As he had once before, he caught the small woman in midflight and held her tight. He could feel her trembling.

“It's all right, Kare,” he whispered. “I've got you.” For a moment he stood, his feet wide apart, his body strong as an oak. He ignored the rain. He just held her.

Slowly, he carried her to his truck and lifted her across the driver's seat to the other side, then climbed in and locked the doors.

“Where to?” he asked as she curled around his arm. She was dripping wet and shivering.

“Not home. I think he may have been there earlier.”

“Ok. How about your brother's place?”

“He's not there.” She rubbed her tears on his sleeve. “He went out with Millanie and I don't know where they are.”

“Martha Q is probably home. I'm sure she'd let you stay there until they get back. Or I could drive you over to the police station. We could report this guy.”

“You saw him, too?” she asked.

“I saw him, too. Didn't look like anyone I know, but he could have been. I didn't see his face. Wish I had. I wouldn't mind having a short conversation with him. Maybe the sheriff should know he's hanging around?”

“What could I say? ‘I saw a man I think has been following me. He may have tried to break into my apartment. He may have let the air out of my tire. He may have been watching
me, waiting for me.' They won't believe me, and if they did, what could they do?”

Johnny saw her point. He threw his truck in gear and turned on the heater. He was wet but not cold. Kare, on the other hand, was still shivering. “You're coming with me. I'll watch over you. I think you're right. You are in trouble.”

She didn't let go of his arm as he drove slowly home. He couldn't help but wonder why she was so afraid of the world. She wanted everything to be right and fair. Everything to be just and balanced. It was like she hadn't figured out yet that nothing makes sense. Maybe she always reads those strange books in her tiny office trying to figure it out?

“John,” she finally whispered, “can I stay over at your house tonight? I don't want to go home.”

“Of course.” He started to make a joke that she sounded like she was eight years old, but he wasn't sure his frightened little fairy wasn't part little girl right now.

When he got home, he gave her his best flannel shirt to change into and warmed her a cup of milk. Looking around, he saw the rooms of his house through her eyes. Too much furniture. Too much stuff sitting on every table and stacked up in every corner. Plants that weren't real. Plaster teddy bears, art he didn't understand. She'd probably think he ran a used furniture store and this was where he stored the overflow.

On impulse, he picked up Scarlet's overstuffed flowery chair and hauled it to the sunroom at the back of the house. When he returned he brought trash bags. He was filling his third one when Kare stepped out of the bathroom looking adorable. Her pretty legs showing. Her wild hair curly and so damp it sparkled.

“What are you doing, John?”

“Making some room.”

She laughed. “I don't take up much room.”

“That's true, but all this junk does. I've decided to clear out everything that I don't use.”

She smiled. “I do that sometimes. When I came here I decided I wouldn't take anything that couldn't fit in my car. Want some help?”

“Sure, stuff every pillow on the couch in this bag. I can't even see the leather.”

Five minutes later all the gunk his wife had called decorations was gone and the room looked bare, but livable. “Now I can breathe,” he said as he handed her the one remaining pillow and blanket. “Make yourself at home.”

As she snuggled onto the couch, he brought her a cup of warm milk and a cereal bowl full of tiny graham cracker animals. “You know, I saw a program about Ireland once where they showed an ancient fairy tree growing in the middle of an old cemetery. Folks would stop by its low-hanging branches and tie ribbons and bright sparkly trinkets to the tree on the chance that they might attract a fairy.

“I think they'd look a lot like you, darlin', if they came to that tree. Small, dainty, and beautiful.”

She smiled. “You're kidding me.”

“No, I'm serious. Don't you know how pretty you are?”

She shook her head. “My father used to say I was as homely as a mangy chick. He was always trying to get Mom to cut my hair, but she wouldn't. I used to wonder why she never listened to his orders and then, finally, when I was about ten I figured it out.”

“And what did you discover?” Johnny decided he could watch her all night. The way she talked, the way she moved was different than anyone he'd ever known.

“I figured out that my mom was the boss. You see, my dad thought he always had to have his way. He didn't want anything in his name because he feared his past would haunt him. It only took one fight with Mom and he realized his mistake. She owned everything. After that one argument, he still yelled from time to time and picked on me as much as he could get away with, but he never crossed the line again.”

“You don't like him much, do you?”

“I haven't seen my parents for three years. Mom calls now and then but we never talk about Dad.” She seemed relaxed as she curled up on his couch. “How about you? Did you like your dad?”

“I loved him.” The simple answer surprised Johnny. He'd never really thought about how he'd given and received love so easily as a child. “He used to take me with him when he worked, and then we'd take an hour off and go fishing in the middle of the day like we were playing hooky. He'd always say, ‘Don't tell Mom,' but I knew he was kidding because she'd packed the worms in a mason jar in the cooler. In the summers he worked hard and Mom would let me go with him in the mornings. In the winters we'd play games and travel around for days just looking for an adventure. He loved camping out in all the canyons around here.”

“He died?” Kare covered his hand with hers.

“He died. I've always thought if I had kids I'd raise them like he did. They might not be rich, but they'd know they were loved.”

“You should have kids, John.”

He shrugged. “That plan's been derailed a bit.” He pulled down a quilt from a pole on the wall. “You take my bed and I'll sleep here on the couch. If a car turns off the main road the yard dog will bark. I'll be on the porch with a shotgun before anyone can get near the house. You're safe here.”

“What's the yard dog's name?” she asked.

“I don't know.” He'd never thought to call him anything but
yard dog
.

Kare smiled. “I'll ask him tomorrow.”

She stood on tiptoes and kissed Johnny's cheek. “Thanks. When I couldn't think of who to call or what to do, I thought of you.”

“How'd you know my number?”

“I googled you.” She pulled out her phone. “You don't have a cell, do you, John?”

“Never thought I needed one,” he answered, realizing she must think him terribly backward. “I got a computer, though, but with the storm coming in I doubt it'll be much help.”

“I told Millanie I'd text her. She said she'd have her phone off during dinner but she'd get my message.” She tapped a dozen times on her phone, then turned it off. “I guess since
you don't have a cell you don't have a charger. If the text went through, she'll know I'm safe. I can turn it off to save the battery.”