Strangers in the Night (14 page)

Abbie drew her little sister into her room. “What do you mean, you're saying good-bye?”

“Just that.” Skye pulled her arm away. She was wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt that washed out whatever color she had. “I can't stay with Mom and Dad. They both make me feel guilty every time I have a cigarette or go outside. Mom watches me—criticizes me. She doesn't say anything, but I hear her anyway. She sees me as a loser and she feels sorry for me.”

“She loves you.”

“Right. And now Tim is home and it's even worse. He's all goody-two-shoes and I'm—”

“Don't.” Abbie raised her hand. She understood those looks—understood the kind of guilt Skye must be feeling. “Leaving might seem like the answer, but it isn't.”

“You left.”

“That's entirely different. I'm here for business reasons.”

“And here I thought it was to get away from me. I can see the pity in your eyes too.”

“I won't deny it. I do feel sad for you. I'm sorry you made the choices you did. I don't want to lose you.”

“Too late.”

“Where will you go?” Abbie took another tack, knowing she couldn't do anything to stop Skye—at least not at this point.

She shrugged. “Back to Portland. I have friends there.”

“Street friends? Drug dealers? Pimps?” Abbie sighed and shook her head. “Please, Skye. Running away from your family isn't the answer. Don't do this. Don't throw your life away.”

“I'm not going back home.”

“Then stay with me.” The words slipped out, and Abbie's brain scrambled to piece together what they might mean for her as well as for her sister.

“Here?” Skye asked. Was that relief Abbie read in her eyes?

Abbie nodded as the pieces began to fall into place. The direction she'd sought prayer for became clear and absolute. She needed to stay in Cold Creek. This place would be her new home and Emma and Skye's. “I told Jake to get the papers ready for me to sign earlier today.”

Even as she spoke, her excitement grew. Grasping Skye's hand she said, “Please say yes. I'll need someone to help me with Emma. And help me with details.”

“You'd trust me to take care of her?”

“You love her, don't you? You'd want to keep her safe?”

“Of course.” Skye's drawn face managed a smile.

Abbie sank onto the bed. She felt relief and worry at the same time. Her resolve of a few moments ago began to unravel. She grasped the ends and tucked them in. She had to stay strong. She had to keep Skye from running back to her old life. “What did Mom say about your leaving?”

“She doesn't know. I left a note on the counter after she and Dad went to bed.” Skye bit into her lower lip. “I'll have to call her in the morning.”

Thinking about the scare Skye had given her, Abbie asked, “How did you get in, and how in the world did you know where to find me?”

“I hitched a ride. While everybody was in the living room, I checked the guest register and walked in.”

“But what were you doing in the other room?”

“I heard you and Dawn in the hall and decided I'd better hide. The bathroom door was unlocked, so I ducked in there. I wanted to be sure Dawn was gone before I came out. I'm sorry I scared you.”

“I'll survive.” She sighed. “You might as well stay in the adjoining room tonight. I'll settle up with Dawn in the morning.”

Skye frowned. “I was wondering… Do you think, um… remember when we were kids and you used to let me sleep with you sometimes?”

Abbie chuckled. “I'd like that.”

In the morning, Abbie awoke with a start. It was still dark. The sheets beside her were cold. Skye wasn't there. Abbie checked the adjoining room. No sign of her sister or her backpack. Her stomach rolled as she realized that the gun Jake had gotten for her, the keys to her car, and the hundred dollars she'd had in her handbag were gone as well.

Abbie pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and stuffed her feet into her tennis shoes. It wasn't until she reached the driveway that she let the truth settle in. Skye had used her. The night before had seemed like old times. They'd talked and giggled over memories and childhood adventures. Abbie wasn't certain what made her heart ache the most, Skye's deception or losing her sister to the streets.

Using the B&B's phone, Abbie called her parents. Sadly, her mother wasn't surprised at the way Skye had manipulated Abbie, nor was she surprised that Skye had run away. “I think she took your car because she didn't think you'd turn her in. She knew we would. Besides, with Tim here, she wouldn't want to risk our finding out until she was long gone. I know it's hard, but you need to turn her in.”

“And have her arrested? I can't do that.”

“Honey, she'd be safer in jail than on the streets.” Her mom hesitated then added, “Tim wants to talk to you.”

After a curt greeting, Tim asked, “When did she leave there?”

“I don't know. She was gone when I woke up.”

“I've already alerted the police in Portland. I'll give them a description of the car. Hopefully we can track her down before—”

“Tim.” Abbie's voice wavered. “We can't let her go to jail.”

“I'll do what I can, Abs, but like Mom says, jail is better than the streets.”

Abbie told him about the conversation she'd had with Skye. “I still can't believe she lied to me. She seemed happy about my suggestion that she stay with me.”

After a moment's silence he said, “I don't know what to say. Maybe she thought about the responsibility and got scared. Maybe having me here cramps her style. Who knows? Getting off drugs is hard, staying off is practically impossible. At any rate, she's in trouble.”

“You're right. I'll press charges if you think it will help. Just find her, okay?”

“We will.”

“And Tim, you need to know—she has my gun.”

Tim swore. “Then we'd better pray she doesn't use it on someone— or on herself.”

Abbie hung up the phone, tears blurring her vision. “Oh, Lord, what do I do now?” She'd known with certainly last night that she should stay in Cold Creek. Having Skye with her and Emma had seemed like a perfect solution.

Abbie did the only thing she could at the moment. She prayed. She was sitting at the kitchen counter, head in her hands, when Dawn came in from outside.

“Oh, I thought you'd gone out.” She hung up the keys on one of the hooks on the wall and nodded toward the back door. “Your car was gone when I went out. What's wrong?”

While Abbie explained what had happened, Dawn heated a kettle of water and placed a canister of tea bags on the counter.

“I'm so sorry, Abbie.” Dawn poured hot water into their cups. “I can imagine how disappointed you must feel.”

“I'll pay for her staying here last night.” Abbie warmed her hands on the mug.

“No you won't. There's no need.”

Abbie didn't argue. She'd compensate in other ways.

Dawn turned on the oven and brought out the mixer. “I hope you don't mind if I cook while we talk.”

“Not at all. I'm glad you're here.” She sighed heavily. “I can't believe my sister would use me like this.”

“Sometimes people do things they really don't want to do,” Dawn said. “I've read that most addicts want to quit but they can't help themselves.”

Abbie nodded. “I've read things like that too, I just never thought I'd have to deal with it personally.”

They talked for several more minutes while Dawn mixed batter for a cake. Once it was in the oven, she excused herself to get started on her daily tasks. “I'll be praying for Skye,” she said. “I hope the police find her.”

“Thanks, Dawn. I appreciate your being willing to listen.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

Abbie carried her cup and saucer to the sink and rinsed it out. She felt better for having talked. Now for the rest of the day. She'd learned during her long period of grief that it did no good to sit around and sulk. Better to stay busy.

She decided to walk to the library. If she planned to restore the place, she needed a layout of the town and the history of each of the buildings. Once again, she walked past the stately Victorian that seemed to call to her. She paused to examine it more closely. There was something regal about the house. As if it had been built for someone important. The paint had peeled off long ago, and the wood had turned a weathered gray. She could see that it had once been white with maroon and green trim.

Abbie swung the gate open and started up the walk. She felt an odd sensation moving through her. Not fear, she decided, though she lifted her gaze to the window on the third floor where she thought she'd seen the curtains move the day before. There was no movement now and Abbie attributed yesterday's incident to the breeze. Still, she felt as though she were being drawn forward. The hair stood up on the back of her neck, giving her a chill. Abbie shook the feeling off and turned back. She would explore the house soon enough.

Moments later, she stepped into the library and greeted Samantha, who was putting away a stack of books.

“Hi, Abbie.” Sam grinned down at her from her perch on the rolling ladder. “Did you come to chat or are you looking for something in particular?”

“Both, I guess.” Abbie told her what had happened with Skye. “I need to stay busy. I could also use your help in finding out about the history of Cold Creek. Talking with you and Isabelle yesterday really piqued my interest.”

“I have exactly what you're looking for,” Samantha said as she stepped off the ladder. While Samantha pulled some books from the shelves, Abbie pulled out a chair from the long table and sat, then took a notepad out of her bag.

“You might want to start with these.” Sam placed them on the table.

Abbie noticed that two of the books bore Isabelle's name. “Did your grandmother write these?”

“She did. When I moved in with her after my divorce, she told me she wanted to write her memoirs. Part of my room and board for staying with her was to organize and edit her stories. The memoir is still in progress, but we ended up writing an entire series of the history of Cold Creek. We also have a collection of old journals.” She hesitated for a moment then invited Abbie to come into a side room. “I don't usually let people see these, but since you're looking at possibly restoring the buildings, you should have a look.”

There were several glass cases with books and photos displayed along two walls. A small desk sat in a corner near a window. Samantha withdrew a set of keys from her pocket and opened one of the glass cases. From it, she lifted out one of the leather-bound books. “For me, the most interesting one is from Jebediah Johansson, Granny's uncle. Jebediah worked as a lumberjack felling trees until he lost a leg in a freak accident.

“He was only forty at the time, and didn't let the disability stop him. He decided the town needed a combination hotel, saloon, and gambling hall. His brother never did approve—Gunnar, my greatgrandfather, was a devout Christian and felt a saloon would bring nothing but trouble.”

Samantha closed the case and began walking back to the main room. “Jebediah was a wealthy man and spared no expense in building the place. He ordered stained glass and tile and marble from Italy and hired local craftsmen to do the interior woodwork. The building was a work of art and was featured in the newspaper. For a while it became the place to visit, but the novelty wore off. Cold Creek never has been a destination spot. As it turned out, the hotel had very few overnight guests.” She paused. “Most people thought he should have built it in Oceanside. We never did get a lot of tourists out here.”

“Was that when the hotel closed down?”

“Not at all. Fortunately, the saloon and gambling hall did very well.” She gave Abbie a wistful smile. “I'd love to see the building restored. The hotel rooms upstairs would make great apartments and maybe someday we'll be able to fulfill Uncle Jebediah's dream.”

Abbie frowned. “We're talking about the boarded-up building across the street, right?”

Samantha laughed. “I know it doesn't look like much on the outside, but the inside is beautiful. I'll show it to you later. Gunnar closed it down after Jebediah died. I don't think he ever tried to sell it, but by then the town had begun to disintegrate. People moved away to find jobs in the city after the lumber mill closed. There was nothing here to hold them.

“Jebediah died a very rich man, however, and since he never married and had no children, the money went to his brother. Gunnar refused to touch a dime of it—not that he needed to. He was a wealthy man by then. When he and Marie died, Isabelle inherited the lot—including Uncle Jebediah's fortune.”

She tipped her head to one side. “There's a bit of a mystery involved with the money, though. None of Uncle Jeb's money was ever accounted for. Rumor has it that Gunnar buried it somewhere.”

“How exciting. A buried treasure.”

Samantha laughed. “A lost treasure. Like looking for a needle in a haystack. People have tried. My father did. He was obsessive about it. He must have turned over every piece of dirt in Cold Creek. In the end, he drank himself to death. He was a greedy, self-centered man and he ended up bitter and disappointed.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am. He had a family and a future but tossed it all away following a dream that may not even exist.” She shrugged and smiled. “I don't mean to sound bitter. In a way it was good for me. I realized early on that I didn't want to be like that. I spent a lot of time with Granny. And I don't care a whit about the lost money. For me, the treasure is the stories and the building itself.”

“I'm excited to see the place,” Abbie said, “but I'd like to look at more of the history first. So far, it sounds fascinating.”

“Uncle Jeb's journal is a great place to start.” Sam set the leather book on the table. “Just handle it with care.”

“This is amazing.” Abbie paged through the entries, and as she did so, the history of Cold Creek came to life. Two brothers, Gunnar and Jebediah Johansson, established the community in 1889 around a logging camp. The lumber industry at the time was going great guns. Trees were toppled and sent down the mountain via wood flumes to the river and into Oceanside where they waited for transport. Eventually they built a sawmill a ways out of town so the lumber could be processed before being sent out by truck. Gunnar married Marie in 1901 and had only one daughter, Isabelle, in 1903.

As the money came in, they began building the general store, the millinery, a café, the post office, a church, and a library. The brothers built the mansion on the hill shortly after Gunnar married Marie. He and his brother had a row over the saloon and he moved out of the mansion and into the hotel. He turned it into a showplace and Abbie couldn't wait to see it.

Old brown-tone photos of the hotel and the other buildings had all been placed into the handwritten journal. As she paged through the book, she paused at a page that featured the lovely Victorian she liked so much.

Tobias Carlson, the town physician, had lived there with his young wife, Sofia. Tobias, sixty-five at the time, had the house built while he waited for Sofia to come from the East Coast with a number of other mail-order brides.
She was a young thing
, Jebediah had written,
much too young for old Doc Carlson
.

“How's it going?” Samantha set a couple more books on the table.

“Great. I'm reading about Sofia.”

“Ah, the disappearing bride.”

“She disappeared?”

“It's quite a story. She was terribly disappointed when she discovered that the man she was to marry was old enough to be her grandfather. She threatened to go back home, but of course, there was no way she could do that. She'd signed a binding agreement. Eventually, she went ahead and married Dr. Carlson. After all, he had paid her way and had built a lovely house for her. She was an unhappy soul, my grandmother used to say, except for those times she slipped away in the evenings after Doc went to bed for the night.

“She'd head over to the hotel, where she would entertain the saloon customers with singing and dancing. Nothing more, Jebediah made that clear. Grannie thought she did it to earn money so she could return home. According to Jebediah's journal, Doc came into the saloon to fetch his wandering bride more than once. You had to feel sorry for Doc Carlson in a way. He thought he was getting a wife and ended up with nothing but trouble.

“It isn't written in the journal, but Grandma thinks Jebediah and Sofia were in love. Sofia became pregnant after a while and stopped coming to the saloon. She left town shortly after that. Doc was grief stricken and so was Uncle Jeb.”

“That's so sad.”

“It is. Doc was never the same after that. He moved out of the house after she left and went back into the room behind his office, where he stayed until he died twenty years later—hung himself in that old house. It's been empty ever since.”

“Poor man.” Abbie took a moment to absorb the story. “What a fascinating history. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I'm thinking we should publish a book about Cold Creek's history. I have a hunch we could sell tons of them once we get tourists up here.”

Samantha's eyes widened in agreement. “I love the idea. I'll ask Granny what she thinks.” Abbie's thoughts returned to the Carlson house. “Is the house part of the property that's up for sale?”

“It is. Doc stopped making payments and it went back to Jebediah and Gunnar.”

“Good.” Abbie grinned. “I'd like to see the inside. I'm thinking it would make a nice home for Emma and me.” She'd almost included Skye but checked herself and offered up a prayer for her sister's safety.

“I'd offer to take you, but I have students coming in soon. You could go through it and the hotel if you want. I can give you the keys.”

“I'll do that, thanks.”

Abbie realized then she hadn't seen the inside of most of the buildings yet. She supposed she should do that before signing the papers, but it didn't really matter. Based on her father's figures, the asking price was primarily for the property. To a developer, the buildings would probably be a liability, since many of them would have to be torn down.

But not for Abbie. Jake had given her a list of the buildings he considered acceptable for remodeling. The hotel and the Victorian were on the list. She began her personal tour, starting with the hotel, and was pleasantly surprised. Sam had been right, the building was full of treasures.

Even though Samantha had told her about the stained glass and marble from Italy, Abbie wasn't prepared for what she found. The ceiling in the saloon as well as the hotel lobby featured carved tin tiles. Behind the marble-topped bar was a wall-sized mirror bordered with stained glass flowers and leaves. A stained glass partition separated the saloon from what looked like a dining room or maybe the card room. In the far corner was a stage. Ragged red velvet curtains draped down each side.

Abbie couldn't have been more thrilled. This would be the perfect place for poets to read and musicians to play and actors to perform. No wonder her parents had fallen in love with the place. The bar would serve as a fountain providing drinks and desserts—like Jeanette's brownies.

A wide oak staircase wound up to the second and third floors. A peek into several rooms on both floors gave her an eerie sense of stepping into the past. Each room had a decorative lamp built into a wooden stand and a double bed frame. Either someone had taken the mattresses out or they'd never been put in. There were two bathrooms on each floor. The rooms were large with tall ceilings. They were in good shape for having stood empty for so many years. She could see signs of mouse droppings and peeling wallpaper, cracks in the plaster, but that was all cosmetic. The floors seemed solid—of course she wouldn't know for sure until she brought a contractor in.