Snowed (17 page)

They sat near a large vegetable garden striped with row after row of lush green plants. She shielded her eyes against the brilliant late morning sun and let her gaze follow the yard’s scraggly grass and bushes past a tumbledown log fence that separated the lawn portion of the property from the pasture. In the distance a brown and white cow reclined in the grass, chewing her cud. Chickens scratched in the dirt near the henhouse.

Leah continued, “Some things just aren’t worth rehashing. I mean, I never hear you talk about your first husband.” She reached down to pet Penny, a shaggy, cream-colored mutt.

“That marriage was never meant to be.”

“I don’t know about that. You got Annie from it.”

“That reminds me.” Merl methodically drew her needle through the doll’s scalp and tied off loops of yarn hair. “I had a visitor
—
someone I hadn’t seen in ages.”

Leah was relieved at the abrupt change of subject. Merl would now go into a long-winded description of a visit from some old biddy or other, complete with endless scraps of gossip about people Leah didn’t know, and she’d half listen. Penny rolled onto her back and presented her plump pink belly for scratching. “Oh yeah?” Leah said. “Who?”

“James Bradburn.”

When she could think again, could breathe again, she realized she was staring in openmouthed shock at Merl, one hand still on Penny’s belly.

Merl continued to apply Raggedy Ann’s hair. She cast a swift glance at Leah. “James Junior. The young one. His daddy, that devil, he passed away, it turns out.”

That devil was Leah’s daddy, too. The unspoken fact hovered in the air like a bad smell.

How hard it must have been for Merl, so forthright about everything else, to keep such a thing for so long from the girl she’d raised as a daughter. Leah wondered, if she hadn’t stumbled on the truth of her parentage, would Mama and Daddy have taken their secret to the grave?

Merl shifted a little in her seat and returned her eyes to her task. “Mrs. Bradburn passed away, too, he said, ten years ago. I was mighty sorry to hear that. Anyway, you mentioning Annie reminded me about James.”

“He came to see you,” Leah mumbled, incredulous.

“Yep. Seems he heard Annie passed away.”

“Did he ask...did he ask how she died?”

Merl’s lips tightened. She continued her needlework. “I told him the same thing we always said
—
that it was pneumonia. He and Annie used to play together. Course, I never told anyone up there that she was gone, so I don’t know where he coulda heard about it.”

Leah swallowed hard and directed her gaze into the distance to where old Zelda the cow was ambling lazily into the large fishing pond to cool off.

“Anyway, James and me had a nice long chat.”

“How did he know where you lived, Mama?”

Merl shrugged. “He said he looked me up.”

Leah forced herself to ask, “Why did he look you up?”

Merl pointed to a manila envelope resting on a sack of fertilizer near the house. “To give me that. Real sweet of him to come all the way down here to deliver it personally and pay me a visit after all these years. He’s nothing like his daddy was.”

Wondering if she was going to regret it, Leah rose on unsteady legs and crossed to the fertilizer sack. She picked up the envelope and drew out a large photograph...

And heard her own startled gasp. She blinked through a sudden film of tears to examine the picture James had made for Merl. She’d seen this image hundreds of times before, but never like this
—
crisp, clear, and large.

Annie sat on a bench surrounded by what Leah now plainly saw was a wooden arbor, its sides and ceiling covered with beautiful large leaves and heavy bunches of grapes. She looked carefree and happy, dressed in a short-sleeved white summer shirt, shorts, white socks, and sneakers. Her knees were scabbed.

It was a blow-up of the snapshot Leah carried in her wallet.

Merl continued adding hair to her doll, but her eyes were unfocused, glistening. “You still have that old snapshot?” she asked. Leah nodded. “Well, it was young James that took that picture, you know, and he gave Annie that little snapshot. He was just a boy then. Anyway, he said he came across the negative and thought he’d make it up into a picture for me...said I oughta have it. There’s more copies in there.” She indicated the envelope. “Some little ones, too. He said maybe you’d want one of those for your wallet.”

Leah threw a sharp look at her. “He mentioned me?”

“Well, I told him about you.” She held up the doll and smoothed out its thickening tresses. “I told him I had another girl that came into the world the same day my poor Annie left it. And he said he figured Annie’s sister might like a picture for her wallet.”

Leah stumbled back to her chair. Why would he say that unless...

He went through her wallet!
How could he?
But then she looked down at the image of Annie, laughing, happy. James had made this picture for Merl. He’d brought it to her. And he obviously hadn’t let on to Merl that he knew Leah. Just as Merl had failed to enlighten him about Leah’s true parentage and the fact that she was his half sister. Thank goodness.

Her head was reeling. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. If he’d seen the picture in her wallet and recognized Annie, why hadn’t he asked her about it? It was too confusing
—
her head hurt with the effort of trying to fit the pieces together.

“Have any luck?”

Merl’s screechy holler made Leah jump, grating her already frayed nerves. Who was she yelling at? A low male voice answered from across the expanse of pasture. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Leah’s head whipped up. Her heart slammed to a halt, then started thumping in a wild tattoo that echoed in her temples.

“I think I’ve earned a beer, Merl,” the voice called. Leah shielded her eyes again and stared into the pasture at the figure as it came into view from behind the run-down tool shed. The man was walking toward them. He was tall and powerfully built, nude to the waist, his muscular bronze torso glistening with sweat. A red bandanna was tied around his head as a sweatband, and he was liberally decorated with machine grease and dirt.

James had never looked more handsome.

“Leah, go and get a beer for James, would ya?” Merl asked.

“You
—
you didn’t say he was still here!”

Merl stared at her. “Well, I didn’t say he wasn’t, did I? What’s got into you? That boy’s been out there fixing that old Rototiller of your daddy’s. He needs something to wet his wh
—
”

“You put him to work fixing
machinery
?” Leah watched as, in the distance, James gave a wide berth to something in the grass that caught his eye. Merl cackled. Leah groaned. The last thing she’d expected to see today was James Bradburn, Jr., looking like a greasy mechanic and dodging meadow muffins in her folks’ pasture.

Merl said, “James volunteered to take a look at that old tiller.”

Right. Leah knew Merl. It wasn’t unusual for guests in her home to end up “volunteering” to do everything from taking out the garbage to hanging drapes.

“Besides,” Merl continued, “he wanted to stick around and meet you. I told him you were coming.”

James opened the rickety gate in the log fence and closed it behind him. Leah stood, and that was when he noticed her. He paused and held her gaze a moment, his face impassive, before continuing his trek in their direction.

She bolted inside to the little kitchen, the squeaky screen door rattling shut behind her. Get him a beer? Let him get his
own
damn beer. What kind of game was he playing, anyway? She raced down the short hallway to the front door of the house, where she paused, panting, her hand on the doorknob.

She couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to Merl. She’d just arrived. Maybe if she was quick...

She’d just reached the back door when a large form filled it, blocking the light. She could only stand there and stare in mute outrage as James opened the screen door and carefully closed it behind him. His crystal blue eyes seem to glow in his sun-darkened face. His skin was damp, the black hair on his chest glistening with sweat. Her eyes strayed to his faded, low-slung jeans, now splotched with grease from the tiller.

Noting the grating squeal of the door hinges, he said, “Maybe I’ll oil this thing next.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

His face remained neutral, but a muscle jumped in his cheek. “You’re not the only one who likes to play tourist, Leah.”

She flattened herself against the counter as he moved past her to the pitted enamel sink. Heat seemed to radiate from his large body in waves and he smelled pleasantly of fresh sweat. At the sink he scrubbed the grime from his hands and dried them on a kitchen towel. She watched him open the fridge door and bend down, perusing the contents.

“Not that many sights to see in my parents’ pasture unless you count what old Zelda leaves behind. I had no idea you were such a whiz with machinery.” She leaned against the chipped Formica counter and fidgeted with a scorched oven mitt, trying to ignore the hammering of her heart.

He located a beer and turned back to her, popping the can’s top. “Seems there’s a lot you and I don’t know about each other.” He took a long swallow.

“You said you weren’t going to contact me.”

“Did I contact you? I thought I came to see your mother.”

She was about to deliver a scathing retort until she remembered the picture. She looked down. “It
—
it was nice of you to make that picture of Annie for her.” When she raised her eyes, his expression was an unsettling blend of bewilderment and carefully controlled rage.

“Leah...why?” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me you were Annie’s sister?”

Anything she said would only make the situation more painful for them both. She tried to make it to the back door, but he moved like lightning, capturing her arms in a relentless grip and forcing her to look at him.

“What did my father do to your family?” he demanded. She swallowed hard and looked away. “Dammit, I’ve been trying to figure this thing out. Nothing else makes sense
—
he’s got to be the reason you came to Whitewood.”

James released her and put some distance between them. He yanked the sweat-soaked bandanna off his forehead and tossed it into a laundry basket sitting by the back door. “Your family was with us for years. Don’t tell me this whole thing has nothing to do with that bastard.” He stared at her a few moments before adding, in a softer voice, “It would explain a lot, Leah. If he did something to hurt Merl or Douglas...well, what I mean is, it would cast a different light on your actions, make it easier to understand why you...” He ran his fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

Her nervous gaze strayed to the screen door, through which Merl could be seen, calmly doing her needlework, well out of earshot.

He answered her unvoiced fears. “No, I didn’t ask your mother about it. You’re the one who started this, Leah. It’s your job to enlighten me, not Merl’s.” He took another swallow from the beer can.

“James, how did you find out...?”

“That Merl and Douglas are your parents? Purely by accident, I assure you. I’m as good as my word. I had no intention of getting in touch with you.”

She crossed to the calico-draped window over the sink and stood gazing outside as he explained, “It was Kara. She took it kind of hard when you left without saying anything to her. And then you got unlisted numbers. Taking no chances, eh?”

Leah glanced at his bitter smile. She and Kara had become close friends while she and James had been together.

He said, “And you didn’t return her calls when she left messages at your office. She was hurt, Leah.” He drained his beer can. “Kara ended up talking with your Miguel the other day when she was trying to get you. Before long they were chatting like long-lost cousins.”

Leah could believe that. Miguel and Kara were possibly the world’s two most loquacious and outgoing people.

“Trust Kara,” he said. “Five minutes talking to her, and Miguel was singing like a bird, giving her your folks’ names and this address. Funny. All the time we spent together and not once did you mention your parents’ names. Now I know why. Not that I noticed at the time. I was too...bewitched, shall we say. Blind might be more accurate.”

She turned to face him. The unforgiving bitterness in his eyes chilled her. “Why?” she asked.

“Why was I so damn gullible or why did Kara want to know about your parents?” When she greeted this barb with stony silence, he answered, “Possibly because she likes you, Leah. And she’s not used to friends who burn her off with no explanation. She figured she might be able to get in touch with you here.”

“She knew we broke up. Wasn’t that explanation enough?”

“Not for Kara. Anyway, she thought Merlina Moody Harmony was an interesting name and didn’t I think so, too?”

Leah groaned inwardly. So that was how he’d made the connection.

“I suppose she thought I’d break down and go after you,” he added, beginning to stalk around the small room like a caged lion. “Merlina Moody. Not a name you forget too easily. She and Annie were a part of our household during most of my childhood, you know.” Abruptly he stopped pacing. “And then one day they were gone. Just like that. With no explanation. Annie had been like a sister to me for so many years.”

He looked intently at Leah. “But she was
your
sister. God, you look so much like her. I can see it now. When I first met you, I thought there was something familiar...” He stopped and gave an incredulous little laugh, but there was no joy in it.

“You searched my purse,” Leah accused. “You knew about the picture.”

He raised a palm. “You left the photo lying out.”

“But why didn’t you say anyth
—
”

“I didn’t recognize her. That snapshot you have is in such poor condition it was hard to make anything out. It’s no wonder
—
I was a kid when I took it, with my very first camera, so it’s been kicking around for a few decades. Anyway, after I found out Merl’s your mother, I remembered the photo I’d seen in your room and it hit me
—
it was Annie Moody. So I rummaged around in my old negatives till I turned it up.”