Secrets (67 page)

Rico had asked her last night to think about going to New York with him. She could crash with one of Lance’s sisters in the Michelli hotel, and as soon as they found a guitar player that he and Chaz could tolerate, they’d make a go of it. He hadn’t even kissed her yet.

It was a no-brainer. But she wanted to give Rese something before she went. Not an object she could buy with her mother’s money, but something Rese would remember. This was all she could think of. They didn’t talk much on the long drive in. She was afraid she’d say, “Stop! Let me out!”

Instead she focused on all the things Rese had done for her over the years, the times she had brought her back from the abyss. This hardly compared. They were going to the crazy house to visit, not stay.

The hospital was not a dungeon, and they weren’t seeing the cells, only the visiting room. Star hesitated as Rese approached the woman at the table. Her hair was spun silk, her skin soft and loose, but she remembered those eyes. Rese’s same umber, with that luxurious excess of tint. She’d been fascinated and repelled by Elaine’s eyes, never knowing as a child which nature lay behind—kind or cruel—as opposed to her own mother whose neglect was the one constant in all her life’s variables.

“Mom, you remember Star.” Rese motioned her over.

Elaine raised her eyes, and Star trembled. She wasn’t sure she wanted Elaine to remember her, but as she looked into the woman’s face, she felt a melting inside and said, “Hi.”

Elaine narrowed her eyes. “Of course, I remember the fairy child. You were always so light, so many fairies around your head.”

Star couldn’t breathe. She sat down across from her. “You saw fairies?”

“Such beautiful colors.” Elaine started to rock. “Beautiful, beautiful colors.” She turned to the wall. “Now it’s all gray; gray, gray, gray, gray, gray.” Her voice rasped. She turned to Rese. “What have you done with your father?”

Star sat mesmerized as Rese gently explained that her dad was dead. She didn’t suppose that was new information, but whether Elaine grasped it, she didn’t know. The thing she couldn’t comprehend was the peace and wonder that had consumed her with Elaine’s words. She wanted to touch her, to stroke her hand, her beautiful hair.

After a while Elaine grew agitated, and a woman came to calm her down. “That might be all she can handle today. It’s still new.” The woman spoke softly, but there was authority behind the words.

Star got up with Rese, having no clue what had set Elaine off. She hadn’t heard much of anything after those first statements. They walked to the truck, and then she was inside. Rese was speaking, and Star turned. “What?”

“Are you all right?”

Star nodded, but for a long time she couldn’t talk. They were over the bridge and into the farmland before she said, “When it was worst of all … when they had me in the bedroom, I’d look up and see only the beautiful colors.” She stared out the window, past a low fence that dipped and rose over dun-colored grasses. “I pretended they were fairies.”

Lance was as nervous as a teenager at his first prom when he went to the inn. He parked the bike and Baxter greeted him, delirious. Lance loved up the dog a long time before he could stand and face his friends who’d come out at the sound of the Harley. “Hey.” He couldn’t help looking over at the house. Would she come out?

“She’s not here, mon.” Chaz put an end to his wondering.

Rico said, “She and Star went to see her mom.”

A good safe distance and a long time away. He’d have liked to apologize, but that was obviously not in her plans. He hoped she would be all right, seeing Elaine. And then it registered that she’d … taken Star? He was not sure what to make of that.

Star had been anything but supportive, and Rese had refused his offers. But before he could ponder it further, the police arrived, and his focus shifted to Quillan’s remains. He oversaw the work in the tunnel, the careful wrapping and removing of the bones from the place they had lain since Nonna left him there.

A sigh of relief escaped his throat. As soon as they’d made an ID, the remains would be buried in the churchyard with the DiGratias and the Shepards. He’d been wrong about the plot—there was a space reserved for Quillan beside his wife, Carina. Ground had shifted and stones had leaned, but his place was there nonetheless.

When the hearse and the police had gone, Lance turned to the others. “How long are you staying?”

Chaz spread his hands. “I need to work, to send money home.”

Rico said, “Saul Samuels is champin’, Lance. We need your guitar, your songs.” He didn’t say his voice.

There were no shortage of guitarists in New York. He shook his head. “As soon as this is done with Nonno Quillan, I’ll go back for a while. But get yourselves another guitar.”

Rico said, “I asked Star to come.”

Lance suspected as much. He had worried about her coming off the abusive relationship directly into another, but she and Rico were finding a harmony they just might sustain. “That leaves Rese alone.”

“Can’t help that.”

He didn’t suppose they could. They had already stayed longer than he’d expected. “Can you give her a chance to find someone?”

“She won’t do it. She cancelled the ad, told the people who called that the job was filled.”

Lance frowned. “She wants to run it alone?”

Rico shrugged. “She won’t say much.”

The hurt inside revived. Was she afraid to hire someone else after what he’d done? And he’d thought he was through with guilt. Baxter’s tongue filled his half-closed hand. The animal could always sense it. Lance reassured him with a stroke.

Chaz leaned on the side of the carriage house and crossed his arms. “What about the wine and the money?”

“I’m working on that. I asked a friend of Tony’s to look up the numbers on the bundle I have. See if it’s hot.”

“If it is?”

“The feds’ll be down here ASAP.”

Chaz cocked his head. “And if it isn’t?”

“Rese won’t worry about her bills for a while. Those dates are silver certificates. It’s worth more than cash value by a long sight, especially in its uncirculated condition.”

“What about the wine?” Rico had perked up measurably.

“Depends on the quality. It hasn’t been disturbed, and it’s a perfect temperature down there. For that vintage, each bottle could auction for two hundred to two thousand dollars.”

Rico whistled. “That’d pay some road costs.”

Lance half smiled. “I guess it would.” He hadn’t told them about the deed. No one knew but Rese. Not even Nonna. He might have to tell her when he got back to New York, but maybe not.

Rese was not surprised they were leaving. She’d expected it. But Star’s gesture had meant so much, going with her to see Mom. It helped, sharing it with someone who cared. She hadn’t expected Star to understand, but she had. And Rese was able to look at her mother’s situation without the debilitating fear. Yeah, her mom had schizophrenia. It wasn’t good, but they would face it. She could trust the Lord for that.

She stood now at a distance, watching them bury the skeleton from the cellar. None of the small group knew she was there. She wasn’t sure why she was, except that she thought Lance might get on his bike at the graveyard and drive straight out of town.

So she’d decided to torture herself with one last look. She was too far away to see any details, just the shape of him in his loose-fitting shirt and jeans, his stance, respectful but at the same time with that hint of trouble she’d identified early and should have heeded. What was he thinking as they laid his relative to rest? Or being Lance, what did he feel? The breeze blew his hair and Rico’s. Star’s was pinned up in a rosy nest of curls and Chaz stood like a compassionate angel watching over it all.

As soon as they bowed their heads for the final prayer, she started for her truck. She was home and in the shed before the van pulled up, but she went to the window and looked. No motorcycle; no Lance. Just the rest of them loading up the sound equipment, instruments, and bags. The stabbing disappointment surprised her. She hadn’t thought he would come. He’d accomplished what he’d intended. Or she hoped so. But seeing him at the graveyard had hurt more than she expected.

Star came into the shed, her face alight. Rese couldn’t help imagining the fairies circling. “The essential question,” Star said, “is do the frogs stay or go?”

Rese smiled. “They’re yours. You decide.”

Star glided over and squeezed her into a hug. “Come with us.”

“And do what?”

“Never ask that if you want to reach the rainbow.”

Well, rainbows were a little out of her reach, but she could live with that. Rese set Star back. “This is my place. But you know you’re always welcome.”

“What if I have to bring Rico?”

“Rico too. He can make pancakes.”

Star giggled. “I thought you were going to haul off and deck that wattled woman.”

Rese shook her head. “A definite possibility.” She still did not handle people with ease. Maybe that would come in time, or not. Whatever the case, it was up to her now.

She was surprised how much it hurt to see them go. She waved when the van pulled out of the yard, at the same time wanting to holler, “Don’t leave.” But this was her place, her responsibility. And she couldn’t do it by herself. She’d have to hire somebody.

The thought did not sit well. She had wrestled it to death, but with reservations full she would never manage it alone. It was hard enough now. Whoever she hired would have to come and go. She would not offer room and board. That was too much like family, and there were only so many times she could lose everyone.

She wandered back to the carriage house and stood without going inside. It had turned out really nice, and once the furniture was finished she’d get a hefty room charge for it. After enough people had slept there, it might stop being Lance’s place. Beside her, Baxter perked his ears and raised his head. He made a soft whine, and a moment later she heard the motorcycle.

Of course. He’d be coming for his dog.

Lance pulled up beside the shed, surprised to see Rese standing in the yard with Baxter. She must have heard him coming. Why hadn’t she run? Or maybe she meant to fight him for the dog. She looked fierce enough.

He climbed off the bike and removed his backpack. He could have just whistled for Baxter, but he might get the chance this time to say … something. Rese stood as though she’d been planted in the garden, a beautiful statue, one you’d notice for its compelling form. No whimsical nymph trickling water from a lily bloom.

He stopped a few feet from her, and for a moment no words would come. Then he said, “Thank you for letting me bury Nonno.”

She nodded once.

“Rese … I wasn’t honest with you, and I’m sorry.” So sorry it chewed him up just saying it to her. “I worked every angle I could to get what I wanted.”

Her jaw pulled tight, and he knew what he’d feel in her neck.

“I know you can’t believe me, but I never lied about my feelings for you. I meant every word.” Tears stung his eyes, but he refused to play on her sympathies. “I still do, and I just want you to know … if you need anything. If it gets too much…”

“What? You’ll drop by and save me?”

Straight in through the ribs. He swallowed against tears that would not go away. There wasn’t much more to say. As much as he’d like it to take forever, any minute now she’d be calling the police. He reached inside his jacket, took out what he’d brought. He held a notepaper out. “This is the name and number of someone who can evaluate that wine. I’d get a second appraisal as well, just to make sure.”